I was with my daughter and two oldest granddaughters on vacation at Williamsburg, Virginia on September 11. We were visiting the Carter's Grove plantation and listening to a young black woman give a talk at what had been the slave quarters of the plantation. She was a wonderful speaker and somehow during the course of her talk we knew we were sisters in faith. Suddenly we were interrupted to be told of the first tower being hit. The talk stopped and we had a few minutes of silent prayer as there was concern that not all present even believed in a God to pray to. As we left the area and started driving west through Virginia to the mountains the day was very odd. There were no planes in the sky, no cars on the road until we came to the gate of a military facility. There the cars were lined up filled with people reporting for duty. The last two days of our trip had a very surreal quality. The day we drove home to New England was the day the services were held at the National Cathedral. As we drove up the highway listening to the radio broadcast of the services it was easy to see that everyone else was doing the same thing. It was a very moving time. We passed truckers, big, hardened men driving down the road with tears streaming down their faces. Flags were everywhere, some in the most unexpected places. Like, Kat I was military brat and I know only too well what that day of terror held for our men and women in uniform. As a fifth generation Texan my heart has always been there even though life has taken me many other places, but the best of all places is this country. I am so proud to be an American. My only prayer is that we continue to try be worthy of all the blessings God has rained down upon us. Glynda Logwood Churchill