Small Act of Big Faith

Many clever and passionate people have written about their feelings and thoughts on the anniversary of 9/11, about what happened on that awful September day in 2001. I don’t feel like sharing the impact that day had on my life and worldview, though it was profound and I will never forget those feelings of fear and grief. I do not wish to focus on that.

I would just like to share my small act of big faith.

On the evening of the anniversary of the terrorist attacks, I boarded a small domestic flight to Santa Barbara, having left my children in the loving arms of their grandparents, and flew through the air with my knitting and my Kindle to keep me company. It was a short, sweet flight, with no hiccups or security difficulties or excessive waiting. My stuff was x-rayed and I walked quietly through the metal detector. Nobody asked me any questions about my bags; I didn’t check any.

It wasn’t until the next day, when I was rummaging through my purse, that I realized I had accidentally smuggled a pocket knife aboard the airplane. It was in my purse, as usual, because a pocket knife is a useful tool to have. But I didn’t remember I had it and nobody noticed it, not even the technician manning the x-ray.

I don’t know how to feel about this, except to be somewhat amazed at how life is always in a state of entropy, even after a massive, shattering upset. Things go back to normal, despite our personal transformations.

We drop our vigilance. We continue with our plans, despite the alarms. We carry on.

  • About Sara

    Thanks for visiting! I’m Sara, editor and writer, wife to Ian, and mother of two precious boys. I am living each day to the fullest and with as much grace, creativity, and patience as I can muster. This is where I write about living, loving, and engaging fully in family life and the world around me. I let my hair down here. I learn new skills here. I strive to be a better human being here. And I tell the truth.

    Our children attend Waldorf school and we are enriching our home and family life with plenty of Waldorf-inspired festivals, crafts, and stories.

    © 2003–2018 Please do not use my photographs or text without my permission.

    “Love doesn’t just sit there like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new.” —Ursula K. LeGuinn

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