That Day

I can’t bring myself to watch the 9-11-01 Remembrance shows. 

There are many things I still remember so vividly that my heart starts pounding and my throat gets dry when I share those memories.  I can still hear the voices, feel the ground shake, get that sick feeling when you can’t reach someone and fear the worst.  The plane that hit the Pentagon flew past our church building like a bullet.  I didn’t see it myself,  but our mild-mannered sexton was outside with landscapers and he screamed.  The plane was so low that it skimmed the treetops and even hit street lights on its way down Columbia Pike.  And then we felt it. 

I remember frantic emails about church members and loved ones who were in the Pentagon or the Towers that morning.

I remember picking up the children of federal workers from day care because the workers were in lock down – especially if they worked for the FBI or CIA.

I remember picking up my own children – schools closed early and there were no buses – and one of our middle schoolers said that when the Principal asked all students with parents working at the Pentagon that day to report to the library half his class left.  They would be meeting grief counselors in the event their parents did not pick them up.

I remember one elementary school principal who – after getting all her students to their families – learned that her own husband had perished in the Pentagon.

I remember a stranger who cried in our sanctuary all day but wouldn’t speak.  After several hours, she finally stopped crying and told E. that she’s witnessed the plane fly into the Pentagon on her way to work. 

I remember that we had a wedding scheduled for that Saturday and the bride and groom wondered if they should go through with it.  The groom’s family was coming from California. The bride’s family was coming from Europe.  And all flights were canceled. 

I remember that the groom’s family had  immediately rented an RV that Tuesday and drove across country.  And unbeknownst to the bride, her family had arrived early in the US to visit old friends.  They too rented a car and drove to DC.

I remember – after the wedding – driving to N.C. to preach at the ordination of a friend and, on Sunday, as we lined up to enter the sanctuary, The Almost-Reverend M said, “This is a terrible day to be ordained.”  And someone else said, “Actually, this is the perfect day to be ordained.”

I remember that we played the same song over and over and over again on a stream as people came into our sanctuary to pray and cry.  In the Lord I’ll be ever thankful.  In the Lord, I will rejoice.  Look to God; do not be afraid.  Lift up your voices, the Lord is near.  Lift up your voices, the Lord is near.  It helped us get through that day.

You can hear it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SGS26r7dKZQ 

(Note: WordPress hyperlink still on the fritz and the slides of snowy London are distracting.  Just close your eyes and listen.)