Babe’s Mane Blog : Remembering September 11th

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Babe’s Mane Blog

Teaching women how to wear hair – one (strand, mane, head…) at a time.

Remembering September 11th

Thursday, September 11, 2008 9:15 AM

Feeling sorrowful today. Just sitting here remembering the day. Rushing from work in tears to pick up my children from school. Listening and watching in disbelief. It still brings tears to my eyes and sorrow to my heart.

A co-worker sent me this poem today. I wanted to share it with you.

Life is short. Enjoy it.

Babe

Met in the Stairwell

You say you will never forget where you were when you heard the news, Sept. 11, 2001. Neither will I.

I was on the 110th floor in a smoke filled room with a man who called his wife to say "Good-bye." I held his fingers steady as he dialed. I gave him the peace to say, "Honey, I am not going to make it, but it is OK...I am ready to go."

I was with his wife when he called as she fed breakfast to their children. I held her up as she tried to understand his words and as she realized he wasn't coming home that night.

I was in the stairwell of the 23rd floor when a woman cried out to me for help. "I have been knocking on the door of your heart for 50 years!" I said. "Of course I will show you the way home -- only believe on Me now."
I was at the base of the building with the Priest ministering to the injured and devastated souls. I took him home to tend to his Flock in Heaven. He heard my voice and answered.

I was on all four of those planes, in every seat, with every prayer. I was with the crew as they were overtaken. I was in the very hearts of the believers there. Comforting and assuring them that their Faith has saved them.

I was in Texas, Kansas, London. I was standing next to you when you heard the terrible news. Did you sense Me? I want you to know that I saw every face. I knew every name-though they did NOT all know Me. Some met me for the first time on the 100th floor. Some sought me out in their last breath. Some couldn't hear me calling to them throughout the smoke and flames, "Come to Me...this way...take my hand." Some chose, for the final time, to ignore Me. But, I was there.

I did not place you in the Tower that day--you may not know why, But I DO. However, if you were there in that explosive moment in time, would you have reached for Me? September 11, 2001, was not the end of the journey for you. But someday your journey will end. And I will be there for you as well. Seek Me now while I may be found. Then, at any moment, you know you are "ready to go." I will be in the stairwell of your final moments.

God

Copyright©2002 Stacey Randall

by Babe with a Mane

Comments

HD-Bretina said:

Babe, I have to tell you I read this poem before and everytime I read it it brings tears to my eyes.

September 11, 2008 4:48 PM

HD-Krystle said:

This is so sad!

October 9, 2008 11:58 AM

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About Babe with a Mane

My natural hair has not been seen for over 20 years. It has hidden under wigs and weaves, under toppik, colored sprays, couvre and dermatch. My growing hair is a significant burden. It takes too much time to try to fix it up to be presentable, too much money to try to fix, too much energy to worry about and conceal. Every day, I used to wish for great hair. Every day I was ashamed of my thin hair. Every day, I woke up feeling confident, feminine and sexy inside. Then, I looked in the mirror at my natural hair and those positive thoughts were robbed from me. My natural hair forced me to feel unattractive, timid and insecure. I know who I am inside and I wanted to project that image to everyone else. To do that, my hair had to change. Women who are bald or have very thin hair, are not considered "socially acceptable" in the general public's eye. I wanted to be considered socially acceptable, my natural hair wouldn't let me. My dream hair allows me to lead a normal life. I wake up to my guy nuzzling my neck while my soft hair is brushed aside. I jump in the shower to wash my hair. I look in the mirror to see a confident and sexy woman, looking back at me. I don't waste hours trying to disguise myself to fit in. I blow dry and curl my hair and go to work with a spring in my step. I don't catch others staring at my thin hair while trying to have a conversation with me. The same confident, self assurance that I feel inside is now projected on the outside. There are no further internal battles between true persona and an incongruous outward appearance. I am finally, after a lifetime of dreaming, able to project an image that reflects the confident, sexy, intelligent, feminine woman I truly am.

Babe with a Mane

Not born with hair, but I've got the intelligence to find it, the job to pay for it, the patience to "stick" it on just right, the will to make it work, the confidence to wear it boldly and the smile to wear under it!

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