Dear Bank Teller,

Ten years ago today, terrorists attacked our country.  I watched the news as the second airplane struck the World Trade Center in NYC.

And then I took our children to school and went to school myself.  For that day and then next two days all I could focus on was providing safety and normalcy to a small "world" of four-year-old children.  In spite of all we could do as their parents and their teachers and their neighbors, these children grew up knowing and understanding words like "bomb" and "hijack" and "terrorism."

But Friday came.  It was my day to catch up on all the daily stuff.  I went to the grocery store.  I cleaned the house.  And finally I got to internalize the tragedy for myself.  I saw the faces of people who lost loved ones.  I witnessed the pile of rubble where two majestic structures full of people had once stood.  I watched leaders of nations globally try to bring the nation--the world!--together. 

The rest of the world had had three days to begin to process the loss, understand, and begin healing.  It was Day One for me, and I was hurting horribly.

And then I came to the drive-through window at the bank.  You saw my tears.  You expressed your concern.  You shared the love of the Savior and your testimony of him.  You told me of the gratitude you had for so many wonderful people and for our church, all rallying together to bind up wounds, both physical and spiritual.

Do you know that you began my own heart-healing that day?

I remember 9/11.  I remember you, dear bank teller.

I will never forget.