As a little girl growing up in the nineties with many “girl power” stickers, posters, and tee shirts, I loved the movie, A League of Their Own. Which depicted a fictionalized telling of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League that existed from 1943 to 1954. I rejoiced in 2012 when it was selected for preservation in the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant”. I loved this movie so much I recall one fateful afternoon where I had a complete meltdown at our local library because despite my many thoughtful assertions as to why I should now be called “Kit”, like one of the characters in the movie, my entire family refused. There. Were. Tears. To be fair, I have never played baseball or softball and have to this day never successfully made it through watching an entire game. Thus, I remain “Katie”.

I had started my work as rector of Grace Church in Plainfield, New Jersey just three months before the September 11 attacks. Our town was on the commuter train line into New York City. The attacks happened on a Tuesday. By Friday, everyone in each of those towns was aware that the cars left in the commuter parking lots, were the cars of those killed in the Twin Towers that day.

Grace Church was located on 7th street, a major two-way county road that ran parallel to the train line. It was a very busy street. On September 11, we opened the doors to our beautiful place of prayer and held Evening Prayer that week. Friday that year was the Feast of the Holy Cross. That evening was most poignant because Christians believe that the cross of Jesus “draws the whole world to himself for our redemption…” and that we are called to “take up our cross and follow him…”  That was an important message for us all.