There’s never been a day like September 11, 2001. Two things stand out to me that day, outside of the horror we all witnessed. As a teacher, I had to tell a class of ninth graders that the whole world had just changed and nobody knew what was coming next. As an individual, I clearly remember the moment when the cell towers unjammed just as I dialed my grandmother’s number. I was looking at the sky, standing in the parking lot of our school, and my first words when she said hello were, “Bopum, is Jesus coming?” For a minute, I truly believed we’d hit a Revelation moment and we’d all be home by the end of the day.
Sitting in my room that day were twins. Aaron and Jon had always wanted nothing more than to serve their country, and it solidified that day, I think. And September 11 never comes around that I don’t think of a September 1st morning, ten years later, standing in front of another classroom, and the message that Aaron was gone, the result of PTSD after his time in service. Those two moments are forever linked for me.
Where was God? 50,000 people in the WTC. Over 47,000 survived. Flight 93 never reached its intended target. The Pentagon withstood the hit far better than the terrorists believed it would. The country pulled together. People helped each other. For a moment, we were one. And that was God.