Thanks to Jim Voorhies for this one.

Found on the internets:

ISTJ – God, help me to begin relaxing about little details tomorrow at 11:41:32 am
ISFJ – Lord, help me to be more laid back, and help me to do it exactly right
INFJ – Lord, help me not be a perfectionist (Did I spell that right?)
INTJ – Lord, keep me open to others’ ideas, wrong though they may be
ISTP – God, help me to consider people’s feelings, even if most of them are hypersensitive
ISFP – Lord, help me to stand up for my rights (if You don’t mind my asking)
INFP – Lord, help me to finish everything I sta
INTP – Lord, help me be less independent, but let me do it my way.
ESTP – God, help me to take responsibility for my own actions, even though they’re usually not my fault
ESFP – God, help me to take things more seriously especially parties and dancing
ENFP – God, help me keep my mind on one thing – Look, a bird – at a time.
ENTP – God, help me follow established procedures today. On second thought, I’ll settle for a few minutes
ESTJ – God, help me to try not to run everything, but if You need some help, just ask.
ESFJ – Lord, give me patience and I mean right now
ENFJ – God, help me to do only what I can and trust You for the rest. Do You mind putting that in writing?
ENTJ – God, help me to slow downandnotrushthroughwhatIdoAmen

On a day like today, September 11th, many thoughts enter the mind that wouldn’t necessarily enter it on any other day. Thoughts of sadness, anger, reflection and consolation. Thoughts shared by an entire nation, some shared by the entire world. And it is a day that unites people in a way no other day can.

It is also a day that highlights the days that are more personal, days that hold individual meaning, individual sadness, individual memory. People who lost loved ones on this day are both burdened and blessed by such significance. They have stories of heroism, innocence and bravery which they can share with anyone, and be understood by everyone.

9 years and 6 days prior to the Sept 11th tragedy, I lost my father. A loss that is shared solely by my brother, my mother, and those very close to our family. The story I hold onto is uniquely mine. An unusual impulse gift of Rollerblades I call “the magic skates” and breakfast at a nearby family restaurant. The last one to hear “I love you” from Scott Egan.  The note card left on the doorbell by the police who had stopped by, trying to deliver the news in person. The phone call to the hospital as my mom stood in shock, composing herself to explain to her 12-year-old girl that her father isn’t alive anymore. Waiting for my brother to come home from camp, and hiding in the house while our pastor explained to a screaming teen that his father had died. Standing in a line at church while people passed to offer their words of love and condolence. Deliveries of lasagna, pasta, salad and more…when all I really wanted was fried chicken.

There are plenty more vivid memories I can’t bring myself to type. Not today. Not when I’m supposed to be sad with the world. 10 years.

Next September 5th will be 20 years without my father.