Here's my "Where were you at on 9/11" story.

Tuesday, September 11, 2001.   A beautiful early fall day.   Clear skies.    I drove my happy, almost 4 year old to preschool.   I usually attended a Bible class at our church on Tuesday mornings, but this day, I decided that I really didn’t feel like it.   I treated myself to a sausage biscuit and headed home.  The car radio was on and the announcer was rattling about something happening.  They were obviously confused to the details and I didn’t know if something was happening locally or where.  I flipped on the little kitchen TV to “Good Morning America” as I sat down to have breakfast.   As people did everywhere, I stared at the screen in disbelief.  They kept showing film of Tower 1 on fire.   They said that a plane hit it.  I wondered if the pilot was ill.  How could this “accident” happen?  Then they showed film of the plane actually hitting the tower.  Only this wasn’t a film but live TV showing the second plane hitting the other tower.  Huh?   How could two planes go off course like that?  Terrorists really didn’t enter my mind.  This is the United States.  That stuff doesn’t happen there. 

I sat there and watched for a little while.  I called my husband who had started a new job that day.  (Ironically, he was hired to work on government accounts.  The events of this day changed that plan and he would soon be laid off.)   Then it came over me that I wanted to go to our church.  I felt drawn to be with there for comfort.  I didn’t know if anyone would be there or if they would be there and not know what was going on.   The place was full.   We talked, we prayed; we cried, and we prayed some more.   A television was brought into an adjoining room and some watched and kept us apprised as we did all that we could.  We got on our knees and prayed for about 1-1/2 to 2 hours.  We heard about the Pentagon.  I have a niece, nephew and cousin in DC.  Everyone seemed to know someone.    Then we heard that there was an airplane in the air that was not responding and that there were orders to shoot it down.   Huh?  What about all of those innocent people?  What’s going on here?

I left there and did what mother’s do.  I wanted my chicks close to me.   I went to preschool and picked up my little one.  I went by my other son’s school to check on him.  He was doing fine and I made the decision that it would be more disruptive to him to take him out early.  I went home and parked in front of the television watching the same videos over and over.  In the days that followed, there would be psychologists telling parents to limit the media that their children were exposed to.  I was already there myself from media overload and feeling depressed.  I kept seeing the people looking for their loved ones and putting myself in their place.  There was also the reality that there would be nothing for some of these people to find.

This was one of those days that change how we go forward.  Our comfort zone was invaded.  We felt helpless and small.   In those days, we are reminded that we are not in charge.  God is.  The devil may be attacking, but God is still in charge.  We need to trust and keep focused.  Just a reminder.