Some events are so powerful, so tragic, so widespread, that they leave their mark on you even if they didn't directly effect you. I lost no one when the Towers fell 6 years ago on September 11th, but as an American, and as a Christian, I lost brothers and sisters in the spirit if not in the flesh.
I was at work that morning. It was back when I was the opener for the YMCA. I was chatting online with a friend when suddenly she told me that a plane had hit the Twin Towers. It was a while before I had found a radio to turn on, so for a while, she was my source of information. And then the Pentagon was hit as well. I remember feeling devestated just hearing about these events. My shift ended at noon and I hurried home and watched the endless TV coverage. I still tear up thinking about it. I remember being so confused that my church didn't call for a prayer meeting that night, that we went ahead with our original plans...a Woman's Aglow meeting that only mentioned the tragedy in passing. Our nation was being ravished, people had died and were still dieing and many were trapped, but we went on that night like nothing had happened. Perhaps I should have realized then that my church had some compassion issues.
Heros were made that day, as so many sacrificed their lives so that others could live, such as the men and women of Flight 93. And no one could stop the Towers from falling. I hope their sacrifices and heroism is never forgotten.
People are still hurting from this. Some have moved on with life better than others. It is my prayer that God would comfort those who are still hurting, that He would touch them and heal them.
My words are so inadequate. I wasn't there...I only watched it on TV. I've read the stories...and seen the pictures. But...I still remember.
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