I was twenty-six and working as a payroll clerk at a local police station when officers ran in to tell us the first plane had hit. We all ran to the cafetaria and stood transfixed, breakfast left to grow cold, looking at the world as we knew it come to an end. The entire station went into Code Red and although I had experienced the Elian Gonzalez fiasco just the year before as a civilian employee, this was an emergency mode that I wasn't prepared for.
Churches reached all time highs in attendance with standing room only that following Sunday. I remember our worship team singing the National Anthem and realizing that it was the first time I had heard it sung in the church. Gospel music was being played on urban radio stations and most of that week's Tuesday releases went unnoticed. Ironically, Michael W. Smith's "Worship" CD came out that very day and God in His infinite wisdom allowed our spirits to be blessed by songs like "Above All" and "Heart of Worship" in a time we needed it most. Nothing else could speak to our nation during that time, but songs that would remind us of God and who He was to His children.
In one fell swoop thousands perished leaving behind grieving family, friends, and co-workers in their wake. A colleague's daughter worked in the Twin Towers and was on her way to work when she saw the bodies jumping out of windows. Loud noises startle her and she refuses to speak of that day and what she experienced. Post-traumatic disorder took on a different meaning that day. Stories of people whose hearts are like gaping wounds unable to heal or to really move on, are common place. Those who missed planes or called in sick that day are left to fight survivor's guilt. An entire nation went into a perpetual state of depression, no one really knowing how to cope with the horror. This was no run of the mill movie, this was and has become our reality.
We've been in emergency mode for ten years now. Our country's sense of safety is likened to a child being wrested from their mother's safe arms, never to see her again. Airports require more paperwork, and the less you wear to catch a plane is the less you have to deal with in security lines. Immigration and Naturalization Services (formerly known as INS) has now become the Department of Homeland Security. Sending something in the mail has taken on new meaning and words like "anthrax" and "powder" has us wondering each time we get packages in the mail. My inner code red light stays lit and I couldn't become a US citizen quick enough to align myself with who I think is the "winning team." My world has never been the same.
9/11 was the day I stopped listening to our local urban radio stations. I remember switching stations on the way to work in the following days and weeks and not finding meaningful conversation or broadcast about pertinent information. I ended up taking my "business" to the local public radio station and I've been a loyal listener since. I still listen to my old school radio station (there's no accounting for good music these days) but I just couldn't quite forgive our urban stations for keeping an entire community in the dark about what was really happening in our country. To have an age group, a people, a culture that only look to BET and MTV for their information or the hip-hop station for their news, and to only receive bits and pieces of information hoping that they would eventually turn to CNN for the rest, well that rarely took place.
I no longer think about my life in terms of the day to day. Ten years ago, I was a full-time college student, three years into my marriage to a young pastor and just trying to make ends meet. I didn't have the time to pick up a paper and read about life outside of the 'hood. In my mind's eye, there was enough going on down here to be concerned about war, famine, and pestilence anywhere else.
The closest that many in my community come to understanding how impactful 9/11 has been to our nation is watching movies like "Armaggedon" and "2012" which tell of our world being brought down to its knees in times of great tragedy. I caution the urban communities to look beyond our front porch and see the world for what it is--The World. Today it is somewhere else, tomorrow it is our backyard. And ten years ago today, is that reminder that no matter who we are, what our nationality is, where we live, God himself views man-kind with a global vision.
“Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend into heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in hell [the grave], behold, You are there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me” (Psalm 139:7–10). That family in Iran who huddles in their home to read the Word of God is viewed as equally as the one who goes to Sunday morning service in Gooseneck, South Carolina.
I'm beholden to think about life on a grander scale these days. People have become more than just people, they are now souls. They are souls with stories to tell, memories to share, and love to both give and receive. As those Twin Towers fell in the wake of attack, I can't help but to be drawn to the verse in Proverbs 18:10, "The name of the LORD is a strong tower, the righteous run to it and are safe."
I walk away from this national tragedy, all the more driven to make a difference, to impart, to receive, and most importantly to remind any who wish to hear that our Father in Heaven knows all, sees all, and hears all. No tragedy is too big for my God.
