The Blessing Counter: We still remember.

It is hard to believe today, but in 2001 accessing news required actually turning on a tv, radio, or computer. You couldn't just roll over in bed and check your phone for news of the world the minute you opened your eyes. And for me, well, the minute I opened my eyes there were three four-year-olds waiting to be dressed and fed and on Tuesdays rushed out the door to physical therapy at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN.

We can blame the triplet-thing -- I was basically herding cats through long corridors of a hospital on therapy days -- but I usually came barreling into our therapy appointments with no seconds to spare. That Tuesday was no different.

The difference would be evident immediately however. There were no therapists in the therapy room. Not one. We waited for several minutes, no one showed up. I am embarrassed to say that I was losing my patience. We had rushed through our morning to be somewhat on time and now our physical therapists were no where to be found.

And then Linda -- Mason's PT -- rushed in with the strangest look on her face.

"Another plane just hit the towers," she panted. "A second plane!"

She might has well have been speaking a completely different language. I had absolutely no idea what she was referring to. No idea.

Kim -- Benjamin's PT -- had entered right behind her and though they looked distracted, they began in earnest to work with the boys on their therapy.

We left Mayo and drove home. The process of therapy always exhausted my crew. I turned on PBS and settled them for an episode of "Arthur" -- we loved Marc Brown's aardvark and his friends! And while they rested, I snuck into the back room where the second TV was located and turned on the news in an effort to find out what Linda was referring to. Within minutes, I watched as the World Trade Center collapsed. As I tried to comprehend what was happening, I was overwhelmed with the realization that the world had just been changed forever.

19 years later, we still remember the lives lost that day. We remember the families torn apart. We remember the first responders who rushed in to help and lost their lives. We remember the clergy who rushed to the scene and blessed those going in. We remember the weeks after when volunteers went to NYC from all over the country to help.

And we remember the way this country came together in churches, in homes, in schools, in parks and held hands and grieved, and loved, and supported.

19 years later, I am praying that in the remembering, we will find out a way to unite our country again.