Our 9/11

Hello!  I woke up feeling so good yestday!  Mark had me wear a Breath-Rite (?) nasal strip, and it helped me breath so much better when I use a c-pap machine at night!  Isn't that wonderful?

The ward had a fast for Bishop Baird, who's been in the hospital for a week with excruciating back pain.  So awful that he's suffering and they're not sure of the cause.    He's always  so healthy and happy normally, and it's sad to think of him suffering so, but it gives me a sense of the Savior's  suffering for us, in a practical way.  It just makes it easier to grasp how we'll feel when we remember him personally, and we realize his immense sacrifice for our sakes.

Around 1 p.m., Melinda brought her girls over while she went and gave plasma.  They loved, loved, loved playing with the Fischer-Price toys we have for them!  Irelyn was on my lap the whole time, except the last 10 minutes, when she felt brave enough to jabber and stand up holding onto the bed, pulling herself near to Tut.  He'd been a lump under the covers, and had finally meowed a couple of times and squooshed out to the surface.  He was just out of reach, so she turned and touched Mark's back with one finger.  He was at his computer, sending out resumes (still haven't heard back on the job in N. Idaho).  Anyway, all the girls were darling to watch.

Mark had put in Coraline before they arrived and Lainie lay down on the bed to watch, unfolding Tut's fur-covered blankie and snuggling up.  Melinda retrieved her chilluns' just at the scariest part, and Lainie looked a bit concerned as they left.  I assured her that Coraline escapes and is happy to be back with her parents at the end.  She was quite relieved for them!  

All the girls seemed more grown up, but especially Alaina, who starts kindergarten tomorrow.  The boys were at their first day of school already.  

- - -

We hardly thought about the terrorist attack on our country today.  I felt a gratitude, though, to those who had died trying to save others, and those who have fought for our safety since that day.  That night we went to Barnes and Noble for a bit, before we took Leto by Dairy Queen for an ice cream cone.  While there, I read parts of No Easy Day, written by a Navy SEAL who was part of the attack group that went in and killed Osama.  He told how Osama was still convulsing from head trauma when they got to the bedroom where he was.  He lay at the foot of the bed, and they shot him several more times in the chest, till he lay still.

They weren't sure it was Osama till the author of the book wiped the blood from his face and they compared it with the picture they had.  They took DNA samples and photos, but the women there wouldn't say who it was- they said he was "the sheik."  Finally, the author asked a child that was standing with other children, outside on a balcony where they'd been taken.  The little girl said, "Osama Bin Laden," not knowing to lie.  Then one of the women said the same thing.  They SEALS put Osama in a body bag as they left, and took him back to their commander on the ship.  

I stopped reading that part then, and searched for mentions of President Obama: all I found in my cursory search was about  a ceremony where Obama gave a speech acknowledging what they had done.  Afterwards, the author writes, the President said maybe they could come to the White House some time, to share some beers.  When that didn't happen, it was a big disappointment for the author (sorry I don't remember his name right now).  He mentioned it to a buddy, who responded by saying something like, "You believed that bull?  You're probably one of the suckers who voted for change, too!"

And then they dumped him in the sea, an ignominious end for a man who had laughed as he described the attacks on the towers and the Pentagon.  I've seen the video tape of that conversation, which was determined to be authentic, and he clearly thinks it's hilarious that so many suffered and that so many died. 

I have to say that I was glad Osama didn't die instantly, even though he was unconscious when they got to him.  I'm glad the author, one of our U.S. Navy SEALs, got to lift Osama's head and see that it was him.

Somehow I don't feel guilty about my feelings of satisfaction on reading the details of his death.  

Not at all.