Reflecting this past Sunday on the 10-year anniversary of the largest attack on the continental United States brought me back to where I was ten years ago.

I had just gotten back to “homeroom” in Mr. Shirley’s fifth grade class. I was 10 years old at the time. His eyes were glued to the television to the point that I don’t think he heard us walk in. We all huddled up around him and watched. None of it made sense. I had no clue about the World Trade Centers, terrorists, or even if that was live or not.

Sitting at the memorial last Sunday I was so grateful to see that the tour of the 9/11 memorial flag made its final stop in Joplin.

The courage that is mentioned time and time again that Joplin has shown needed to be stitched into this flag.

Hearing that the flag President Lincoln was laid on after being shot was stitched into this flag blew my mind.

At the end of the ceremony, just before the stitching began, the entire building sang “God Bless America” as a whole. It may sound corny, but the energy in that room was through the roof. I had goose bumps the entire time. I remember looking around while everyone was singing and there was a man sitting on the other side of the aisle and about three rows down who had a tear running down his face.

By the end of the ceremony I was glad I went. I was glad that I was able to stitch a little piece of me into something that can’t be priced, and will last for the rest for the rest of nation’s history. I went to bed last Sunday night proud to be an American.