September 11, 2001
In Billings, Montana the sky was grey and there was a cool breeze. I could finally wear my favorite long sleeve shirt. As I pulled over my head, I hoped my best friend would wear her's too - we'd match.
The telephone rang. I crunched Chex with honey.
"Hi..." my mom's bright smile melted, "What? Oh Jesus... Ok, I'm going to turn it on. Oh Jesus.. Just a minute."
I watched her turn the TV on. Her brow was furrowed. The phone was still pressed to her ear, but neither her or my aunt (who was on the other side of the line) said anything. She just stood there watching. Slowly, I made my way to her.
Even the commentators on the news were quiet as we watched the live footage of the second plane fly into the second tower.
I saw it. Evil.
In the class room everyone was quiet. The lights were off. Miss Bloom, pressed folded hands to her lips as she listened to the radio on her desk.
Cecily was not wearing the matching shirt. Jessie, who sat next to me, drew shapes on his desk with an eraser.
The radio clicked off. Miss Bloom came to the front of the classroom and without any additional words, began to pray. And pray...
That's all we could do.
Pray.
Miss Bloom's voice quivered as she prayed. And my eyes filled with tears.
I was too young to fully comprehend what had just happened, but I remember understanding three things:
1) Someone had done this on purpose, killing himself in the process. Why? I wondered. This was real, not a movie or something. Why? Who would do that? Someone who didn't love Jesus, I thought.
2) It was real. . . There were tons of people dead and many of them probably didn't know Jesus. This realization rocked me. My little heart hurt.
3) George W. Bush, who my family had been so excited to have in office, would have a much bigger job on his hands than he had probably expected. I felt sorry for him.
This is history. This is in American history books. We pull through.
I am proud to be an American. But every 9/11 makes me so thankful for the promise I have in Christ. The hope. This world needs hope. We need Jesus.
Miss Bloom's voice quivered as she prayed. And my eyes filled with tears.
I was too young to fully comprehend what had just happened, but I remember understanding three things:
1) Someone had done this on purpose, killing himself in the process. Why? I wondered. This was real, not a movie or something. Why? Who would do that? Someone who didn't love Jesus, I thought.
2) It was real. . . There were tons of people dead and many of them probably didn't know Jesus. This realization rocked me. My little heart hurt.
3) George W. Bush, who my family had been so excited to have in office, would have a much bigger job on his hands than he had probably expected. I felt sorry for him.
This is history. This is in American history books. We pull through.
I am proud to be an American. But every 9/11 makes me so thankful for the promise I have in Christ. The hope. This world needs hope. We need Jesus.
No comments:
Post a Comment