Praying for The Enemy

I was sitting in Mrs.Saine's fifth grade class when the announcement came on the intercom for all grades fourth and above to turn their televisions on. History was being made, they said. Lesson plans were put on hold, teachers stepped out of the spotlight and all attention was directed to the small TV mounted in the corner of the room.

As a child, I had absolutely no comprehension of why the attacks on the World Trade Center buildings were carried out. I had no concept of the repercussions of the actions of the terrorists who completed their mission and never dreamed that 11 years later, our country would still be without peace because of it.

I also never imagined that 11 years later, I'd be sitting at home while my husband is fighting the war that began after the events that unfolded over a decade ago on this very day. I've tried not to think about the attacks much, but it's been impossible these past few days. I get really emotional when I think about them. When I think about the lives that were lost, the families that have been forever affected by the terrorism I just get overwhelmed. Because the fact is, victims of these attacks are born every day. Children whose families will be KIA, who will never know the families who lost lives years ago and who will one day themselves fight in a war that they understand very little about.

It breaks my heart; nearly shatters it into pieces.

It also kills me to know what these attacks have done to us. When Osama Bin Laden was pronounced dead, Americans cheered. They celebrated death. When did we allow ourselves to become so like them? I still, to this day, can't celebrate the death of him. To know that he wasn't a  Christian, to know he didn't have any remorse and died with pride does nothing more than break my heart. I can't find it in myself to be happy or to feel as though we somehow brought about justice; we did not bring the war to an end or the dead to life.

Every night, I walk with God. I take Mariska outside and as I'm letting her run, I pray. I pray for my husband, his unit, our troops, family, friends... I lay my burdens down and ask for forgiveness. And then, I pray for the enemy. At first, it was hard. It was disgusting for me to pray for those who plant the IEDs, who shoot blindly and then run, and who disguise themselves as allies before killing our men; however, I kept going. And I'm still going.

I can't describe the feeling of praying for someone who society tells me I'm supposed to hate. I mean, I'm an army wife. Shouldn't I hate the enemy? Shouldn't I get a free pass because my husband's in Afghanistan amidst hostile fire? There's a peace that comes with praying for even the most evil walks of life; there is hope for even the most lost souls.

As we go through the motions of the day, watch memorials and remember the moment that stopped us in our tracks and have, for many, prevented us from fully moving forward, it will be a challenge to hold back tears and anger. But throughout the day, my prayers will fall on my husband. They will fall on the families who lost loved ones, the soldiers who have given the ultimate sacrifice and perhaps above all, for the soul of the enemy.

Matthew 5:44-45 You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven