Monday, September 11, 2006


I keep hearing the question, "Where were you?" Like it really matters where I was, but I don't think that is the point. I think the point is "Do you remember?" And the answer to that is yes. I remember. September 11, 2001 is emblazoned into my mind the same way my baptism is, how I totaled my car once, my wedding day, the passing of grandparents, the birth of my kids, and other huge events in my life. I remember how I found out, how I felt, the absolute horror of feeling like my home had been attacked. I remember sitting with friends and praying, I remember calling friends of mine in the DC area, only to be scared to death because, for reasons that are obvious now, the phone lines were so jammed I couldn't get through. Not that these friends should have been in any danger, but just checking, you know? I still remember that day. How on earth could I forget?

Amazingly, no one I know was 'directly' affected by the 9/11 events. None of my loved ones died in those buildings, not even an acquaintance of someone I loved. And yet, the grief I felt was every bit as profound as the grief you feel when one of your own passes. I cried for the families who lost loved ones. I cried for the kids who will never know one or both of their parents, for the spouses who will never see the face of their beloved again. Parents whose children died. Brother, sisters, friends, teachers, mentors. People who touched intricately the life of someone else, and now that bond is gone. Not to be reconnected. Not this side of heaven.

Where was I? I was at home. Being a bum. I hadn't turned on the TV or the radio, and would have gone on in oblivion for who knows how long had I not been walking around my apartment complex. My landlord came out and asked "Can you believe this?" My response? "What?" And that was the end of my oblivion. I sat with her, glued to a TV set for what seemed like days. Then, I went to the local Baptist Student Union and again just sat and watched the total destruction that was happening to my nation. I cried. I prayed. I was mortified.

I still shed tears. I still pray. I am still mortified. But, as the years have passed, I have begun to wonder, was this a wake up call from our Lord? I give no credence to the question "How could GOD let this happen?" I sometimes wonder, how could He not? It saddens me to think of how a 'nation under GOD' could stray as far as the US has. I wonder if the Lord allowed this tragedy to happen upon our shores to snatch up the attention of our 'godly' nation. You know the one, where the 10 Commandments get judges in trouble, where prayer at football games is taboo, where the PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE is causing a stir, where everything is supposed to be okay just to validate the life choices that people make.

Our pastor made mention of the fact that the US is a major target for missionaries. I meant to ask him if they were Christian missionaries, or if other religions were taking into consideration our unsaved nation as they moved to expand their own 'territories'. Please, oh please, Lord, let US turn back to You! This is the thought that has been welling up in my mind and heart for 24 hours now.

So, where were you? And how are you? I hope you are disturbed. I hope you are anguished. I hope you are praying.

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