My post for 9/11 was about my experience of that day in 2001.
Now let me tell you about my experience of that day 10 years later, for it is a tale worth telling.
Our pastor started our church service this morning with a few words of remembrance, etc. Out of the blue -- to me -- he asked my Tim to pray for our armed forces. Right after that, the music team (including me) got up to lead worship.
About the second of the four songs, I noticed that Number 7's face -- down in the congregation -- was red and it looked as though he was upset. During the music, I glanced over a time or two, saw him leave the room and come back again, and saw his father cradle our boy's head in his shoulder. Somehow, though, I wasn't losing my focus (thank you, God!). But I was somewhat concerned.
In the fourth song, I suddenly saw Tim and Number 7 walking up toward us at the front of the room. Tim motioned me to stop. Musician that I am, I made him wait until I'd finished the line we were on, and then we all came to a halt. I watched, not alarmed, but wondering.
Number 7 turned toward me and my concern was all for him at that moment. I hugged him hard and then listened in utter amazement as my strong, stoic husband announced, in a voice cracked with emotion, that our second son had just touched down on American soil after a year of deployment in Iraq.
And then we all sobbed. And cheered. And our wonderful church family sobbed and cheered along with us.
During the sermon, the pastor let us in on an important God-moment of the day -- he usually asks our sound-guy (my beloved Sammy) to pray for the armed forces whenever that is appropriate or desired as something special in our church service. This morning, our pastor felt that Sammy was not the right choice for today, and when he (our pastor) walked past Tim in the outer room, he felt God saying, "That's the one." So he asked Tim. And just about the time Tim sat down after praying, he received the text from our son that he was on U.S. soil.
We all shed tears of great happiness on a day of such sad remembrance. The irony was not lost on us -- our boy came home safe and alive on a day when so many lost their lives in the years since 9/1/2001.
We do not forget those who will never come home again. But today we are grinning from ear to ear and we are so very, very grateful for God's mercy.
- Catherine
Showing posts with label September 11. Show all posts
Showing posts with label September 11. Show all posts
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Where were you?
It is hard to relive the day of September 11, 2001. I, in fact, am avoiding most of the commemorative shows and events. Not because I am not moved or touched, but because sometimes you have to guard your heart.
That said, I well remember where I was and what was happening around me that day. We lived in Central New Jersey at the time - within commuting distance of NYC. Many of my daughter's friends had parents working in the city on a daily basis.
When my secretary told me about the first plane, I assumed it was a little Cessna that had gone astray. When she told me about the second plane, I looked up and said, "We're under attack!" Both of us tried to get details - she from NPR and me from the internet. To my frustration, my reliable standby website for breaking news, CNN, had already crashed from the overwhelming internet traffic. Ditto for the New York Times. Eventually I found that Princeton University had made the CNN satellite feed available on its website, and I sat transfixed with horror as the plane crashes were replayed and as the Twin Towers fell again and again and again.
My employer sent us home early, which was just as well since I had a very distressed teenage daughter waiting for me. The father of one of her dearest friends worked in Manhattan. He hadn't been heard from and there was good reason to be worried - his office was across the street from the WTC. Thankfully, it turned out that he was safe and had been making his way home all day. He walked in the door that evening, having been unable to get through with his cell phone due to the overloaded circuits.
One of my co-workers was not as fortunate. Her husband worked for an IT company that sent him to various venues each week. September 11 was his day to work at the WTC, and, sadly, he lost his life in the tragedy.
Word came round that our church would be open for prayer that evening. Many of us sat in the silence for a long time, tears streaming down our faces.
A surreal and horrifying day for all of us. As the stories of bravery rolled in, I marveled at the nobler side of humanity. I still do, and I hope it does not take another national tragedy to bring that side to the fore once again.
Where were you?
- Catherine
That said, I well remember where I was and what was happening around me that day. We lived in Central New Jersey at the time - within commuting distance of NYC. Many of my daughter's friends had parents working in the city on a daily basis.
When my secretary told me about the first plane, I assumed it was a little Cessna that had gone astray. When she told me about the second plane, I looked up and said, "We're under attack!" Both of us tried to get details - she from NPR and me from the internet. To my frustration, my reliable standby website for breaking news, CNN, had already crashed from the overwhelming internet traffic. Ditto for the New York Times. Eventually I found that Princeton University had made the CNN satellite feed available on its website, and I sat transfixed with horror as the plane crashes were replayed and as the Twin Towers fell again and again and again.
My employer sent us home early, which was just as well since I had a very distressed teenage daughter waiting for me. The father of one of her dearest friends worked in Manhattan. He hadn't been heard from and there was good reason to be worried - his office was across the street from the WTC. Thankfully, it turned out that he was safe and had been making his way home all day. He walked in the door that evening, having been unable to get through with his cell phone due to the overloaded circuits.
One of my co-workers was not as fortunate. Her husband worked for an IT company that sent him to various venues each week. September 11 was his day to work at the WTC, and, sadly, he lost his life in the tragedy.
Word came round that our church would be open for prayer that evening. Many of us sat in the silence for a long time, tears streaming down our faces.
A surreal and horrifying day for all of us. As the stories of bravery rolled in, I marveled at the nobler side of humanity. I still do, and I hope it does not take another national tragedy to bring that side to the fore once again.
Where were you?
- Catherine
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)