It has been 10 years and the strange thing is that I can
close my eyes and it feels like not a moment has passed. And yet, so many have.
10 years ago I was sitting on my bed reading a devotion and
enjoying a beautiful September morning.
When my husband called with the news that a plane had crashed into the
World Trade Center, I turned on the TV just as the second plane was striking
the second tower. When I told him what
just happened and that they were jetliners not small private planes, he
immediately ended the call.
He was at the Pentagon.
I was home in Washington, DC.
My natural response would
have been to find myself lost in the news reports - traipsing from Fox to CNN to MSNBC. This morning it didn’t even cross my mind and gratefully
so. I put the TV on mute and returned to my morning prayer time.
Not long after, I vividly remember the
windows in my home shaking. At the time, we lived
directly across from National Airport and often sonic booms would rattle our windows. However, this time it was different
and I noticed. Minutes later, I would
know why.
The next time I looked up to the television I no longer saw
pictures of New York but a familiar shot of the Pentagon with dark black smoke billowing from its side. I knew
that building. I had been in it many
times. My husband was there at that very
moment and I wondered where.
I began to frantically look for his business card and tried to
desperately count off the rings and corridors to figure out where his office was
and where he should have been. Truly, I
had no idea but it made me feel better trying.
The minutes ticked away silently.
The military community where we lived was locked down. I couldn’t leave. Phones lines were jammed. I couldn’t call.
It was eerily and wickedly – quiet.
In the deafening silence, I felt a peace and a
calmness. Now, I recognize it as God’s presence and
provision but then, it felt odd – different.
It was a couple hours before my husband could call and tell me he
was “fine” (as fine can be when evil comes knocking on your door). It was hours – like 18 or more – before he
made it home wearied, wet and smelling of a strange mixture of jet fuel and
smoke. Wearing first degree burns on the outside and deeper, much deeper wounds on the inside. I don’t remember many words. To this day, we have trouble finding them
when talking about September 11th.
In that, I doubt we are alone.
As a first responder on that day, he didn’t evacuate but ran
toward the horror. He spent the next 3
months working in the crash site. I can
still vividly remember the smell of his clothes each day.
Death and evil are not pleasant fragrances.
But grace is. It
doesn’t always come in the package we expect or want but it always comes when
we need it most.
On that day we lost neighbors – a husband and a new father;
a young boy going on a field trip – just two of the many who left their homes
that morning without an inkling of what was to come.
On that day, the cost was priceless.
We will never understand why my husband's meeting that was scheduled to occur at the exact moment and place where Flight 77 impacted the building, was cancelled at the last minute.
We will never understand why innocent people paid such a high price.
I cannot understand evil that causes such pain. I pray that I never do.
On that day, our lives were changed.
On that day our country changed.
Still and yet, on that day, our God - the One True God - remained the same. That is what I seek to know and understand. On Him I can rest my weary and heartbroken soul. He catches every tear. He calms every anxious thought. He gives strength in the weakest of moments.
He never changed and gratefully, He never will.
Where were you on September 11, 2001?
©
A Sacred Longing 2009-2011
Colorful leaves giving way to bare branches
