Long before September 11th became a political hot button for the majority of Americans, and a wedge event for politicians, it was known as a day when something awful happened to us. A tragic event that took the lives of 2974 unsuspecting people. For a short time, we were united as one. For a short time, wearing an American flag meant that no matter where you happened to be physically, you were mentally present at the events happening as rescue turned to recovery in Lower Manhattan. Thoughts weren't of conspiracy, lies, corruption, gain, and dishonesty. We, as everyday people, were concerned about our fellow man, and the tragedy that struck a small portion of our nation. The world prayed, watched, cried, donated, and grieved for those families and the support staff as they tried to make sense of the senseless.

Every year marking that horrible day, I have struggled to look past what this day now symbolizes to most and remember how I felt that day, and the few months following.

It has become a political topic for me because it is the epicenter of the recent years of continued death and tragedy. We have parlayed 2974 deaths into tens of thousands of deaths and untold destruction. For me, it is very hard to see past those glaring facts.

But today, I am choosing to remember those who were on the front lines, in the rubble, looking for survivors. Jen and I had the unique and humbling opportunity to help at Ground Zero in January 2002 during an eight month volunteer relief effort. We volunteered at St. Paul's Chapel for two days providing chiropractic adjustments to the Fire and Police Departments as they entered the Chapel for food, rest, sleep, and comfort. It was an incredible, life and mind changing event for us. These are pictures of real unity in the face of uncertainty.