Sunday, September 10, 2006

Where were you on September 11, 2001?

It was our first full year homeschooling. We had pulled the children out of a private Christian school in January, so this was the start of our first official full year of homeschooling and we were all very excited. Joshua was sitting on the sofa working on a subject and Danielle and I had just started working on Geometry. Mr. U was checking email. Breakfast was finished, dishes were done and the day was getting off to a good start.

While Mr. U was sitting at the computer I heard him say, “What in the world?” and he immediately turned on the TV. A plane had flown into one of the Twin Towers. “How horrible!!!” we all agreed as we gathered around the TV to watch. What happened? Perhaps something was wrong with the pilot? Was the plane having problems? What caused it to happen? As we were sitting there wondering all these things, it happened. The second plane flew into the other tower.

Two planes? Tears streamed down our faces. There’s no way that’s an accident. That’s planned. But by who? And WHY???

We sat spellbound in front of the TV all day long. The phone rang off the hook- some family calling to check on us and we were making sure they were alright as well. Mostly we had senior adult ladies in our church call. The sweet widows who had no one else to talk to. They wanted to understand what was happening. Were they going to be okay? Were we at war? They figured the pastor could help them understand.

At one point during the day, Mr. U had to go to town to get something from one of the stores. Joshua went with him and I remember thinking “PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!!!” I was scared to death. I was scared of war. I felt helpless, alone.

That night we had a special prayer service. Normally, since it was a Tuesday and not a typical “church” day, you would think there wouldn’t be many people at church, but there were MANY there!! People feeling unsafe. Wanting answers. Needing reassurance that God was STILL in charge. Desperate to be with fellow believers and lift their voices, together, to the only One who could fix the situation.

While crawling in bed late that night, I wept as I prayed. “I shouldn’t go to sleep”, I thought. “If I go to sleep, something may happen and I won’t be able to react quickly enough.” Silly thought considering we are in Georgia and the World Trace Center is thousands of miles away from me.

But the whole experience felt as if it was in my own backyard. As if I had personally been attacked. This is MY country. These are MY people. Land of the FREE, remember? Home of the BRAVE. I wasn’t feeling very free OR brave at that moment nor for days afterward.

Five years later, here I sit. Life is back to normal. For our family, anyway. We didn’t know anyone personally who died in any of the attacks. We hurt for those who did, though.

For the thousands of families that are missing someone so very badly, we will never forget. Your loved one WILL be remembered. While your sorrow is much deeper than mine, I still cry for your family. I imagine all the times you’ve thought of that day and replayed it over and over in your head. All the “what ifs”.

Regardless of what happened that day, God is still in charge. He IS good and He DOES good. Always. He had reasons for that day. Reasons we may never understand this side of Heaven. But, truth is, He knows best. So follow Him. Follow Him hard. Life is shorter than we realize.

Never forget.

edit: Visit Snannon at Rocks in my Dryer for more 9/11 stories.


Melissa said...


Unknown said...

I remember being woken up by my brother's call. He told us to turn on the TV because something terrible was happening. My husband and son stayed home that day.


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