I was watching television after my children had left for school. I was in shock seeing the footage of the planes crashing into the towers. My Dad was a first responder in 1978 when United flight 173 went down in a residential neighborhood, this was so much bigger. If one plane could change a family, this may just be a war.

I called my Dad in Portland, knowing he didn't watch TV much after my Stepmothers passing. He shared with with me that the news in Portland the previous night aired only once that a vehicle attempted to crash the gates at PDX, was this the beginning of war.

I wanted my children with me. They were in lockdown and I was helpless; I was hungry for any information at all. My heart was breaking as I watched first responder after first responder enter into the chaos and help as many people as they could.

I grew up in a Fire Station, I was aware that the heart of a first responder beats differently. Thank God for those hearts...they are what keeps this country alive.