Memories of 9/11
As I sit here watching the news coverage of the various ceremonies to commemorate the terrorist attacks on my country, I think back to that day.
I had been living in Seattle but had to move back to Memphis due to being laid off (ironically from the same company I work for now). I had made that trek across the country just a couple of weeks prior. It was a wonderful drive that made me proud to be an American. Seeing so much of this wonderful country filled me with that pride and a certain sense of awe. Even in my despair at loosing my job, I knew that everything would be OK. On 9/11 I was still so newly returned to Memphis that I was staying with my aunt and uncle. They had gone with their kids and grandkids to San Diego to visit my cousin. They would be over a week late getting home.
I had slept late that morning. It would be another week before I would start a new job. In my groggy half-awake state, I was really confused. Wy was the news on all the channels? Not just the news channels and the network’s morning show, but ALL the channels. Just about then the phone rang. it was my mom asking, “Are you seeing this???” It took a moment for it all to sink in. It took a really long time for to accept that this was deliberate attack on the US. I was shocked and stunned. I attribute my reaction to this tragedy as being one of the two big catalysts for my reversion back to the Christian faith.
On this day six years later, my prayers continue to go out to the victims of this attack. My prayers also go to a conversion of the people who would do this sort of thing. THat the Lord will soften their hearts and make them come to hope for the same peace I do.
September 11th, 2007 at 5:11 pm
It was some DAY, never to be forgotten. It’s good to remember where we were at that dreadful moment. I was a few miles from the Twin Towers. Every day as I rode to work they stood before me as giant needles in the sky. That morning I was down the basement of the church I worked at, cleaning up after the weekend meetings when the pastor came down and told me to turn on the TV. I did and watched in horror as to what was going on. I’m not sure what I did next, but I remember going up and out on the street looking in the direction of where the towers were supposed to be and they were no more. Earlier, the Firehouse across the road from us had responded and were first on the scene. They were a “hazmat” team! 26 of these young firemen lost their lives that day trying to save others. The next day we had a memorial service for them. Many had come to our church for Mass even during the week. I read off their names, one by one, filled with emotion. The prophecy of Jeremiah in Matt. 2:18 comes to mind: “A voice was heard in Ramah, weeping and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be comforted, because they are no more.” May they Rest in Peace!