I had to drive out to central PA this past week, and on my way home I wanted to find a spot to stretch out and walk the dog a little. I passed a sign for Indian lake, which I'd heard of, so I decided to turn around and check it out to see if maybe I'd like to bring a fishing rod out there one day.
Well, driving about took me past another sign, the Flight 93 Memorial. I had to go, of course, never having been.
My chest was tight as I pulled in, and I'm not ashamed to say a few tears trickled down my face. It's hard to imagine the horror that touched that serene place, so far from anything the terrorists wanted to destroy. Such a great victory, with no living survivors. I wonder if those monsters died with the notion that they'd failed. I hope so.
I am certain that the heroes on that flight knew with incredible clarity the nature of the enemy, a clarity whose dimming in recent years was as likely a source of my sadness as the tragic loss of life.
It's a powerful place. Not much to see, but so much to feel.
Many brave men headline here this morning: Todd Beamer (and all his fellow patriots on board) and our Paul, who is a firefighter, and one of the bravest men we all know. They have come together this morning to remind us of what of what we should be thankful for--and what they have honored and preserved for us--the true spirit of America, and our beloved Capitol building: