Where were you when...?
When I was younger, I recall my mom telling me about moments she would always remember and what she was doing when they happened – when the men landed on the moon, when JFK was assassinated, when Reagan was shot. At the time it didn’t occur to me that over time I would have my own moments like that.
On September 11, 2001, I was a junior in college at Brigham Young University. That morning I was in a class in the basement of the Talmage Building, my Secondary Ed 276 class with Nancy Wentworth teaching. Much of our work was done on the computer and so during the course of the 8am class I was checking my email and briefly saw something about the World Trade Center on a news clip at the top of the page but didn’t look into it any further. When my class was done, around 9am, I came out of the building and walked across the parking lot when my dad called. He asked if I had heard that the World Trade Center had been hit by a plane. I told him I hadn’t heard it yet but that it must have been what that news clip was about. I still didn’t really understand the impact of this event at that point. He told me that I should hurry to somewhere where I could watch it on the news and so I kept walking toward the Wilkinson Center where I was headed anyway. When I got to the bookstore entrance of the Wilk, it was almost impossible to wade through the throngs of students, faculty, and employees standing and staring at the television screens throughout the store. I was beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation, and was feeling overwhelmed as I watched the images on the screen and listened to the newscasters share what little information they knew at that point. As I finally pushed my way through the onlookers, I made it to the main area of the building with tables and chairs packed in for students to study, eat, or visit. These days, on one end of this large courtyard-type area, there is a large screen television playing the news throughout the day, but back then there was not. That day the university did something unprecedented and set up a huge projection screen and displayed CNN on it so that students could gather here (instead of the bookstore) to watch what was happening on the other side of our country.
As students slowly gathered at the table I was seated at, they were all friends that I had met on study abroad a year before in Jerusalem. It was a surreal experience to be sitting with them on this eventful day because almost exactly a year before we had been sitting together in the auditorium of the BYU Jerusalem Center having an experience much like the one we had on 9-11. A year before we had been watching CNN coverage of the pillars of smoke rise from car bombs that we could see from the balconies outside the Jerusalem Center at the beginning of the Second Intifada. This year we watched pillars of smoke rise from the Twin Towers from damage caused by terrorists. Similar conversation occurred at both times: “What happens now?” “What does this mean for me and my family?” “Are we going to be safe?” Our hearts were extremely heavy, during both events, with concern for those injured, dead, and their families who were suffering. We also reflected back on the rest of the events the year before that resulted from violent choices. A year later, we couldn’t help but wonder what would unfold as a result of these violent choices. We continued to watch as the newscasters slowly fed us more information regarding what happened that fateful autumn morning.
In lieu of the usual Tuesday devotional, the university had a meeting to lift our hearts in prayer in behalf of those involved in this tragic incident.
Throughout the rest of the day, and through the weeks that followed, hearts were heavy as we learned of incidents that happened that morning. Many tears were shed. We were also inspired by the stories of humanity that arose in time of crisis – of the firefighters who risked their lives to save as many as they could, the last phone calls to family before death, the sacrifices of many Americans to care for children, husbands, or wives who did not yet know the fates of their loved ones. Many found religion once more and a newfound patriotism rose in the hearts of our countrymen. “United We Stand” was displayed in windows, on doors, and other public places, declaring our allegiance to this great nation. It was a grief-stricken yet beautiful time to be an American.
I will never forget where I was that day, and I hope to never forget to feel the way I felt in the days that followed: love for my neighbors, pride in my country, and an awareness of the fragility of life that helped me to appreciate each day – and each moment – more fully.
1 comment:
I remember when Dad called you, and you said everyone was on their cell phones, desperately wanting to know if their families were safe, etc. It still makes me cry.
Post a Comment