On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was in the car on the way to yet another appointment with a fertility doctor, wondering if this would finally be the month I would get pregnant. Although that subject preoccupied my thoughts, the announcer on the classical music station got my full attention when he mentioned “In light of the tragic events in New York and Washington, we’ll keep bringing you updates.” I switched to Philadelphia’s all-news channel and began hearing about the terrorist attacks.
Inside the doctor’s office, patients sat in the waiting room trying to hear the news coming from a small TV in the office, many of them with disbelief on their faces. Just before 10 o’clock it was my turn to get blood drawn, and as I passed the office, I got a good look at the screen. At that moment a reporter started yelling, “It’s coming down!” I gaped as the South Tower collapsed with a massive roar.
As quickly as I could, I headed home and will never forget standing in the family room in front of the TV watching the devastation wrought by those heartless terrorists. I grabbed my Bible, opened it to Psalm 46, and began reading aloud:
God is our refuge and strength,
An ever-present help in trouble,
Therefore we will not fear,
Though the earth give way and the mountains fall
Into the heart of the sea. . . . .
Around 10:45 my mother-in-law called me, reminding me that my husband’s younger brother was scheduled to fly out of Newark that morning. She hadn’t been able to get in touch with him. Shortly afterward, Randy was able to get through to me on his cell phone. His plane was grounded, he had seen the World Trade Center attack, and he was trying to get out of the airport and go home. I phoned his mom to let her know he was okay.
A strange thing had happened the week before. My husband and I were in Williamsburg, Virginia on vacation, a place we’d been to many times, and we were amazed that during our stay, we kept running into the same couple, Rich and Denise, with their little girl. That had never happened to us before. We just kept bumping into them. After our second “chance” meeting on the street, we got into the car, and I had a compelling desire that I mentioned to Scott. “I don’t know why or what for,” I said, “but I have a feeling that we’re supposed to pray for them.” As Scott drove along the quiet roads he said, “Let’s do it.” We prayed in general for their well-being, for their relationship with each other and God, and for their protection.
On that terrible morning, I remembered that Rich told us he worked at the World Trade Center. I scrambled to find the napkin they’d written their address on one night when had had “gambols” at Chownings Tavern, but there was no phone number. My husband had Rich’s business card, but no e-mails or calls could be made to an office that no longer existed. Nor was their phone number publically listed. I sat down and wrote a brief letter to them, expressing my concern for their safety, choosing my words carefully. I left our phone number and asked them to contact us, letting them know they were in our prayers.
That Saturday as we prepared to attend a wedding, the phone rang. I could see from the caller ID that it was a New York number. I froze. “It’s probably them,” I told Scott. “I can’t answer it. Will you?” We braced ourselves for the news. After he said, “Hello,” I heard Scott exclaim, “Rich!” Hearing that he was alive reduced me to tears of gratitude. As Rich poured out his story, we learned that on the morning of 9/11, he was late getting the bus. Because of that, he was saved, in spite of the harrowing experience he endured watching the towers fall. The question remained, “Why was he late?” This side of eternity we can never know the whole story, but I truly believe that although the terrorists wreaked havoc on our nation, God was still mighty to save. He was, and remains, in control.
Tags: 2001, 9.11, September 11
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