Saturday, September 11, 2010


September 11, 2001

Seventeen years old, and just beginning my senior year of high school, I woke up and began getting ready - much like every other day. I got dressed, ate a bowl of cereal, and picked up my book bag as I made my way out the door. I hopped in the car and blasted some tunes - probably some Nsync and Britney Spears.

My first class of the day was Computer. Mrs. Llewelyn had us working on a creative project where we were to write a three column newsletter on any topic of our choosing. I chose to write a persuasive article on Why Cheerleading is a Sport. I am sure it was filled with factual information like, "because we sweat a lot," and "counting out 8-counts is really hard work!"

Brad Latham, my computer class neighbor walked in a few minutes late - which was a regular occurrence. He asked me if I heard about the plane crash in New York City. I hadn't, and he didn't know much about it, but thought it was interesting. He began to complete his three column project with a fictional article about a plane crashing into a building in NYC.

I remember looking over and he had downloaded some clip art of a building and a plane and had positioned them so that the plane was heading toward the building. "Strange boy, that Brad Latham," were the thoughts that crossed my mind.

It wasn't until third hour US History class with Mr. Smith that I began to see the severity and the seriousness of the events that were taking place in our once protected and undisturbed country. Mr. Smith wheeled a TV cart into our classroom and we all watched as smoke filled the streets of NYC and people were scrambling around, trying to find loved ones. I will never forget the images I saw on that TV. Hurt, Sorrow, Desperation, and Grief were written all over the faces of so many. Fireman tried desperately to rescue and revive the lives and parents were screaming the names of their lost children. I remember thinking to myself, "this can't be real. I'm going to wake up and this will all be a horrible nightmare."

For the rest of the school day, much of our classroom discussions were replaced with newscasts and discussions on terrorism and the future. Many parents came and picked up their children from school that day - something I never understood until I had children of my own. When tragedy strikes, you want nothing more than to be with the ones that you love, hold them tight, and thank God for blessing you with another breath.

I had no idea how much that fateful day would change the course of history and change the great United States of America. I had no idea that the lives that were sacrificed that day were only the first to lose their life in pursuit of freedom. I had no idea that nine years later, I would still remember where I was, what I was doing, and how I left as history changed forever.

I pray that my children will never experience a day like September 11, 2001. Unfortunately, however, this world seems to be corrupting more and more with each passing day. I know that the temptations, sins, and tragedies of the next generation will only be more intensified and severe. I pray that God would use me to equip them in reaching this world for Christ. I pray they would surrender to transforming a generation - one life at a time. I pray that they would be protected from the deep hurts of this world and always be ready for His return.

As I reflect on my memories of that day, and think of the future for my children, I can't help but look to the sky and pray the Lord comes quickly.


Mommypotamus said...

This is EXACTLY the reason I didn't want Micah born on Sept. 11. This day will always grieve me.

Mommypotamus said...

On a totally different note, you make me feel SO OLD. I had already graduated college in 2001!

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