The other day, I found myself getting lost while I was on the Metro North train commuting into work. Not lost in the literal sense of the word, but lost inside my own thoughts. I was still trying to process the news of the death of Osama Bin Laden.
As an American, I was relieved to know that family and friends of victims who died in the horrendous terrorist attack of 9/11 could receive perhaps some form of closure. As a Catholic, I felt pangs of guilt for feeling relief and joy at the news of the death. And, I have to be honest, as a New Yorker, I felt nervous at the thoughts of retaliation.
For the first time in a long time, I began to pay extra-careful attention to my surroundings and to the people who were getting on and off the train. I wondered if there were undercover cops on the train, and if I would see more armed guards inside of Grand Central Station. My thoughts went back to September 11, and how I was in class at Fordham University in the Bronx when the terrorist attacks occurred and remembered the countless fire engines, police cars and ambulances that drove into the city to help as I attempted to drive home. It was with these thoughts – a mixture of gratefulness that Bin Laden was gone, and anxiety at what will happen in the future – that I was absorbed.
Then a young man on the train began to sing a few lines of the song “This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad.” The outburst shocked me back to reality. No one knows what the future holds, but today is a day given to us by God, and I hope that I can wake up each day remembering that, and let go of any fear.