Reflecting on 9/11

Today marks the 9th anniversary of that tragic day on September 11, 2001.

I recall vividly, that morning was so crystal blue, not a cloud anywhere. The sun was so lovely and there was a slight nip in the air. I knew fall was around the corner. Like so many mornings, I got up without turning the TV on. I fixed the children and myself breakfast, and then afterwards I got on the Internet or should I say, I tried.

We had dial-up as our Internet connection, which moved about as quickly as a turtle at times. I thought nothing of it. I figured while I waited out the static exchange of Internet hands shaking, I’d call my husband to see if he got to work okay. He had a 2-hour commute one way and I was always concerned about him traveling that distances. After I got him on the phone, he asked if I had gotten an email he had sent and I told him I was experiencing trouble getting online. He said, “Have you seen the news?” I replied, “No.” News held depressing topics and I wasn’t about to ruin my day, but he insisted I flip on the TV.

The children were watching cartoons as I entered the living room and said, “Daddy wants me to see what’s going on with the news.” One of my daughters said, “There’s a special report on nearly every channel, except this one.”

I surfed to one of the major networks, NBC or CBS or ABC, I don’t remember now. A scene of NYC with appeared on the screen with the camera focused one of the Twin Towers. One or more of the floors were on fire and the reporter was saying something about an airplane striking the building, and then right before my eyes, another plane crashed into the other tower. I knew this was no accident, but I didn’t even begin to know the seriousness of what was unfolding.

The rest of the day was a mindless blur for me with special reports broadcasting live footage of the towers crashing to the earth, news that the Pentagon was a hit, and another target foiled when some passengers aboard Flight 77 heroically took control of the cockpit sending the plane down into a field in Pennsylvania.

Our friends, neighbors, family, fellow Americans, as well as other nationalities, all murdered that day in the name of Allah. Despite my human tendency to hate these people, I knew the God I served did not want me to hate their souls, but hate the cowardly acts of terrorism they executed. It’s hard to imagine that God sees the souls of these people as precious, but He does. In order for me to have peace, then I knew I had to leave judgment in His hands while praying for the misguided to come to know Jesus.

The terrorist did not cause our nation to fall, as they had wanted. Instead, we grew strong. That day ordinary people morphed into heroes. They thought first of others before themselves – some escaped with their lives on that horrific day while others gave theirs. Then the days in the aftermath how our countrymen rallied together through prayer and support for the families who had lost loved ones. I felt a swell of patriotism like I have never felt before and I vowed to not allow fear to dictate my heart. These things are what I choose to remember, the day America stood strong against evil. God bless America!