Alan Jackson asked “where were you when the world stopped turning?” Well, like thousands of other Americans, I was at work, and overworked and stressed. I was working easily 70 hour weeks, big time overtime, and the boss had quit that week, so we were without a leader and trying to keep the ship going. I had a stack of faxes at least 8 inches thick that I was working on and getting so frustrated at the lack of what was needed to do anything with them. I griped a little and a co-worker told me, “well, you could always fly a plan into a building to get their attention.” She doesn’t even remember making that statement, but it caught my attention. I looked up at the tv screen to see the second plane hit, and looked around to see what channel and the name of the movie – only, it wasn’t a movie, it was real time news streaming the horrible, unbelievable actions of a group of people committing these atrocious acts in the name of their prophet. My heart stopped. There was so much pandemonium, so much hysteria, that we could not make local phone calls to check on loved ones. My sister called me, panicking at the thought of my being so far away from the family when the world as we knew it was coming to an end. I called my mom – didn’t we all? I got a call from a friend’s mom, who couldn’t get through to her daughter, who had a son that was in the active military and was struggling to connect with his unit to go, could I help? I called mom again, asked her to call as I couldn’t call locally, and with those 3 way calls, we arranged for me to go and get her after work as we were locked in until it was deemed safe to go. I started helping to take incoming calls, as they started coming in to us in waves, one woman screaming at me that we (the company I worked for) had to do something to help those brave firefighters as their boots were melting off their feet, couldn’t we get them something to keep their boots from melting? I watched the tiny figures of people jumping out of the burning buildings and then watched with all in absolute, stunning horror as the buildings fell, one after the other. I heard on the radio, the song (9/11 song from God) that said –“ I’m here and holding out my hand, just take it.” I was one of the many that Alan mentioned that lined up to donate blood, money, time. I read the stories, watch the documentaries, cry. And pray. So many brave people – the “let’s roll” guy, the phone operator that kept the phone line open so that they could hear if there was any info that could be used to help anyone, the people that helped the handicapped down those stairs when they felt that they were facing certain death with no elevators. Too many to name, too much pain. Those that tried to capitalize on it by price gauging at the gas pumps, in the grocery stores, and those that didn’t and went out of their way to help.
I am part of the generation that saw American soil attacked, our homeland. Another case of “a day that will live in infamy” for so many. But I also stood with Toby Keith as an “Angry American” and with Darryl Worley in “Have you forgotten.” No, I have not forgotten, and I am an angry American, who will stand and defend her homeland, her family, her home and the right to practice her faith.
So, where were you? And what are you doing about it now?
Father, please be with all those who lost family, friends, loved ones, be with those who are sick now from doing whatever they could then and took the ash into their bodies. Be with those with the memories of the horror of identifying all those, locating all the artifacts, and wanting to have a centralized place of mourning. Father, be with us all in this day of memories and sorrow.
