Tuesday, September 11, 2012
On September 11, 2001, I was a new mom with a 6-month-old, married just under two years, living in a new area in a new house. It was the start of a new life.
Back then I worked from home, one of two people in my whole company. I called in daily to get my assignments and I worked whenever I could, usually around nap times and whenever I could fit it in.
That morning was a busy one; I was under pressure that grew louder and more demanding as phone calls and emails shot from an impatient coworker as I juggled my son, my life, and the work that was supposed to be finished. I was worried because I knew that if I couldn't keep up, I wouldn't have that job much longer.
Around eleven, my mother called and said she spent her morning keeping up-to-the-minute on the plane crashes.
I had no idea what she was talking about. Our TV and radio had been off all morning.
She couldn't believe that I was in the dark about it. Exasperated, she said, "Andrea, planes are crashing all over the place. Two flew into the World Trade Center in New York and one into the Pentagon. It's the only thing anyone's talking about." I don't remember if she said anything about the one that crashed into the field not far from her home.
I turned on the TV and sank to the floor as I quickly caught up and realized what had been happening just over a hundred miles away from my quiet home in seemingly every direction.
I ignored the ringing phone as I got my napping toddler out of bed, held him tight and cried and cried as I watched what I couldn't believe I was seeing on the television.
I read an email from my husband's aunt who works in Washington asking to call her mother and tell her that she's OK.
I called my husband and told him that I wanted him to come home.
I finally answered the phone and asked my coworker if he realized that was happening in our country and I told him that I would get the work done when I got it done. He wasn't happy with me.
My husband came home and we sat in our living room and watched the news the rest of that day and night and the next morning. We cried and talked and took care of our son.
That week was a blur of news stories and live video and commentaries and repeated viewings of jet planes crashing into buildings.
On Sunday, my husband and I went to church and prayed for the vicitims and their families and our country and the world.
And in the days and weeks and months and years that followed, life renewed over and over as we worked, raised our son and daughter, quit jobs and got new ones, lost loved ones, made friends, spent time with family, grew in our faith, and laughed, loved, argued, cried, prayed.
And life continues to renew, yet never again like it did that day.
Today is a difficult day. The memories are painful and some of the wounds I fear may never heal. Yet I pray you will help me to go on living for truth, firm in my hope of your salvation. May I live for you, Lord, and by doing so, be an example to my friends and family. I pray, just like Jesus, I may learn obedience through these things that I have suffered. Help me not to question why, yet even if I do, give me courage to continue to trust you. Help me take the comfort and strength you've poured into my life and use it to comfort and strengthen others who need hope.
I pray I might become a better person and help make the world a better place because of this terrible event. Thank you for the heroes that gave so sacrificially on September 11. Help me to remember their courage and learn from them. I want my life to be worthy of you Lord, so make of it what you desire, and use me to fulfill your purposes. May the evil of that day cause me and my family to work harder to do good on this earth and to bring your light into the dark places. Help me to never stop believing in you and living my life for you.
Lord, heal all those who were crushed and broken on that day. May they come to experience your presence and know your peace.
prayer from Mary Fairchild, About.com Guide