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This week, we’ve been reflecting on the terrorist attacks that took place ten years ago this Sunday. Two days ago, I wrote about some of the theological ramifications of this event. Yesterday, several well-known pastors weighed in, describing how ministry has changed in a post-9/11 world.

Today, I’d like to provide space for readers to reflect on 9/11 in their own words. Few (if any) of us were present at the scene, whether in New York or Washington, D.C. But all of us have recollections about that day.

Last week, I read Escape from the World Trade Centerthe first-hand account of Leslie Haskin, a woman who escaped from her office on the 37th floor of the North Tower. Her recollections overflow with raw emotion:

I have lived and relived those moments at least a million times. A million times lost and searching for words to describe what happened on the inside—the torment and vulnerability, the confusion, the carnage, and the sheer visceral terror of it all. I struggle still in my description of witnessing the heart of humanity colliding with gravity and of dreams of the slaughtered Twin Towers covered in dust and blood while a somber last breath cries for justice.

Most intriguing to me was Leslie’s contrast between being inside the towers and then seeing them on television later:

My recollection was of a building defeated on the first blow and crumbling from the moment of impact. There was no pretense on the inside. Beams were contracting, walls were caving in, and floors collapsed seconds after the first impact. That building was coming down.

What I experienced was not a conspiracy or question of how many bombs went off and caused the fall. It was quite honestly a towering inferno, and its demise was like 110 stories of dominos, the first one tipped when an American Airlines weapon of mass destruction crashed into Tower One.

Every channel showed what they thought they saw, which was two towers after the initial attack with some damage from the crashes and a lot of smoke. What cameras saw from the outside was NOT what was going on inside. They showed the world the towers severely injured but standing strong and still fighting. It is no wonder the world was surprised when they fell. It is no wonder that the shock wave was so all-consuming that it left our president speechless. They never saw it coming.

If Leslie is right, and the people inside the building knew that the towers would collapse, then the actions of the firefighters were an even greater picture of self-sacrifice. They didn’t engage in their mission with the knowledge that they might not return, but with the knowledge that they would not return. What sacrifice!

Where Were You on September 11?

I’d like to provide some space here at Kingdom People for us to talk about where we were when the attacks took place. I’ll start us off, but I’d like to hear from others as well.

On September 11, 2011, I was 20 years old. My first year of Romanian education and mission work was behind me. I had been visiting my parents in Murfreesboro, TN and was looking forward to flying back to Romania on September 13 (through Washington, D.C. actually).

On the way into work at the family printing company, Mom called and told us to turn on the radio. It looked like a missile had hit one of the World Trade Center towers. Once I got to the office, I looked for information online, but found nothing except the disputed claim that a plane had flown into the building.

A few minutes later, Mom called again. This time, she was startled. She had seen the second plane hit the second tower. Dad went home to be with her. I gathered around the radio with my co-workers, and we listened to the news.

It seemed like every few minutes, the radio told us of another event. News about the Pentagon changed the atmosphere in the shop. Our first thought had been “freak accident.” After the second plane hit, we thought “terrorist attack.” Once the Pentagon hit, one of my coworkers looked at me and said, “This means war.” About 15 minutes later, we heard a report about the Capitol being bombed, although this turned out to be false. The minutes passed slowly. Everyone was huddled in the office listening to the reports on the radio, imagining the burning buildings in New York.

A little later, Mom called and told me she wanted me to come home. While I was on the phone with her, I heard a loud rumbling overtake the sounds on the radio. At the sound of that mighty building falling to the ground, everyone in the office gasped. We began to consider the loss of life that would be associated with this tragedy. A little while later, the reporter told us that the other tower was leaning funny. Then, the horror was repeated as the second building collapsed.

When I got home, I saw the reality on TV. This was a rare time when my imagination failed to completely capture the horror that was captured by the cameras. As we watched the towers fall again and again, we wept. I remember hearing the name Osama Bin Laden for the first time that day. I also remember hearing my dad (who never, ever cusses) call Bin Laden an SOB. The label seemed too light a description for a person capable of such weighty evil.

That afternoon, our whole family went to church. Where else could we go but to be with our church family? It was a Tuesday, and there were no scheduled services. But church folks were everywhere. We prayed and cried in the sanctuary. We processed the events together, and we surmised that the world had changed and wondered what the future would hold.

Needless to say, I did not fly back to Romania on September 13. It took me another week to make new arrangements. On September 18, one week after the tragedy, I passed through the same security checkpoint that five of the hijackers had passed through in Washington’s Dulles airport. By the time I reached the gate, President Bush was on television in the Rose Garden, asking for a moment of silence in honor of the victims who had perished at that precise moment one week before. Whereas the DC airport was usually roaring with hustle and bustle of travelers, there was an eerie silence on that day. As I flew back to Europe, I knew that the world had changed.

What About You?

Where were you on September 11? What do you remember? Who were you with?

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