History

My son asked me to take him to the Field Museum to see the 9/11 exhibit.  This is an interesting request from a 3rd grader.  I told him it will be sad.  He said, “I know Mom but I love to learn about history”. 

That’s where we are now.  9/11 is “history”.  I can’t believe it’s been 10 years.  My son wasn’t even born yet.  But when I went to the exhibit and saw all of the pictures, I was back there in the moment. 

“What was it like?” he asked.  And this is what I told him:

“It was like hell on earth.  It was terrifying and ugly and evil.  Before 9/11, no American could have even imagined the horror of that day.  No American could fathom that kind of evil.  When the first plane flew into the first tower we thought it was an accident.  There we were staring at our TV screens, being Americans, giving people the benefit of the doubt. 

Then there was another plane and then the towers fell.  When we started to understand what was happening, it was sickening.  I wanted to throw up.  It was fear and anxiety and doubt and sadness that I had never known. 

We prayed for the people who died, who lost loved ones, who were lost.  We prayed for fire fighters and policemen and religious leaders and the President.  We prayed for the children who lost parents and for the people who were alone.  We prayed for the people who jumped from windows and who were on the airplanes.  We couldn’t believe what we were seeing.

We looked for heroes and we found them everywhere.  Firefighters went in knowing they would never come out.  They wrote notes to their families and put them in their lockers.  They walked into their own death with the hope of saving one person.  I will never look at them the same way again.  They define what is great in America.   

At first, the silence of the no fly zone was deafening.  We were freaked out, completely at a loss for what was going on, living in fear of another attack.  It changed everything.  All the people that work in the city came home to be with their families, afraid there may be another attack, maybe on Chicago this time.  We didn’t know what to expect.  All bets were off.  The world was an unpredictable place and we felt like a target. 

We couldn’t turn the TV off.  We were watching too much.  We were depressed by the images but felt compelled to watch.  We felt guilty for surviving, we felt angry, we were really, really mad. 

We all wanted to fight back.  We were a country united in defense of our ideals.  We were strong and certain and ready to defend.  The divisions came later.

We were a country of prayer and faith.  Newscasters prayed on TV and Congressmen prayed together on both sides of the aisle.  The President prayed and churches held special services.  We were looking death and fear and evil in the eye and we knew in no uncertain terms, this was too big for us to handle alone- we needed to call on our God to save us. 

Songs were written and sung to crowds that were weeping.  My favorite is by Alan Jackson, “Where were you (when the world stopped turning)?”

We changed that day.  Individually and collectively, we are different now.  We are scarred and tattered and battle weary.  But the worst the world had to offer was still no match for the best that we can be.  Never lose faith or hope in this great country.”

And then I told him, “You need to know history it’s true and you need to know His Story too.  Because in times when you are looking into the eyes of fear and evil, you can rest in the assurance that there is a God that loves you and even when things don’t make sense, you are not alone.”  

This prayer by Max Lucado helps articulate what I was feeling during those dark days. 

Dear Lord, 

 

We’re still hoping we’ll wake up. We’re still hoping we’ll open a sleepy eye and think, what a horrible dream.

 

But we won’t, will we Father? What we saw was not a dream. Planes did gouge towers. Flames did consume our fortress. People did perish. It was no dream and, dear Father, we are sad.

 

There is a ballet dancer who will no longer dance and a doctor who will no longer heal. A church has lost her priest, a classroom is minus a teacher. Cora ran a food pantry. Paige was a counselor and Dana, dearest Father, Dana was only three years old. (Who held her in those final moments?)

 

We are sad, Father. For as the innocent are buried, our innocence is buried as well. We thought we were safe. Perhaps we should have known better. But we didn’t.

And so we come to you. We don’t ask you for help; we beg you for it. We don’t request it; we implore it.

 

We know what you can do. We’ve read the accounts. We’ve pondered the stories and now we plead, Do it again, Lord. Do it again.

 

Remember Joseph? You rescued him from the pit. You can do the same for us. Do it again, Lord.

 

Remember the Hebrews in Egypt? You protected their children from the angel of death. We have children, too, Lord. Do it again.

 

And Sarah? Remember her prayers? You heard them. Joshua? Remember his fears? You inspired him. The women at the tomb? You resurrected their hope. The doubts of Thomas? You took them away. Do it again, Lord. Do it again.

 

You changed Daniel from a captive into a king’s counselor. You took Peter the fisherman and made him Peter an apostle. Because of you, David went from leading sheep to leading armies. Do it again, Lord, for we need counselors today, Lord. We need apostles. We need leaders. Do it again, dear Lord.

 

Most of all, do again what you did at Calvary. What we saw here on that Tuesday, you saw there on that Friday. Innocence slaughtered. Goodness murdered. Mothers weeping. Evil dancing. Just as the ash fell on our children, the darkness fell on your Son. Just as our towers were shattered, the very Tower of Eternity was pierced.

 

And by dusk, heaven’s sweetest song was silent, buried behind a rock.

 

But you did not waver, O Lord. You did not waver. After three days in a dark hole, you rolled the rock and rumbled the earth and turned the darkest Friday into the brightest Sunday. Do it again, Lord. Grant us a September Easter.

 

We thank you, dear Father, for these hours of unity. Disaster has done what discussion could not. Doctrinal fences have fallen. Republicans are standing with Democrats. Skin colors have been covered by the ash of burning buildings. We thank you for these hours of unity.

 

And we thank you for these hours of prayer. The Enemy sought to bring us to our knees and succeeded. He had no idea, however, that we would kneel before you. And he has no idea what you can do.

 

Let your mercy be upon our President, Vice President, and their families. Grant to those who lead us wisdom beyond their years and experience. Have mercy upon the souls who have departed and the wounded who remain. Give us grace that we might forgive and faith that we might believe.

 

And look kindly upon your church. For two thousand years you’ve used her to heal a hurting world.

 

Do it again, Lord. Do it again.

 

Through Christ, Amen.

 

I watched a television show recently about the people on the planes that flew into the towers. There was a husband who called home and told his wife he loved her and then he said, “I’ll see you when you get there.”  That just killed me.  He knew where he was going and he knew that she would join him someday.  That is our hope.  That is our faith. 

Of course, this is only part of the story.  There is so much more to tell about 9/11.  Over time, our children and our children’s children will learn the details of that day and its aftermath.  They are living in a post 9/11 world, trying to make sense of history and His story. 

When choosing a picture to accompany this post, my son suggested I use a picture of the new tower that’s being built at Ground Zero.  I thought that was a brilliant idea.  After all, we are people of hope and new beginnings.

©2011 Sue Bidstrup, Great Big Yes™ All Rights Reserved