Like most American, I can tell you exactly what I was doing and feeling on September 11, 2001. My personal world had been rocked the previous afternoon when we had received the word that my wife, Barb, had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Still, life had to go on. The next morning I was back in the office serving as school counselor at Lutheran High School of Dallas. The first item on my agenda was to meet with three students who had skipped school the previous day. They had driven to Arkansas to pick up a friend who had had second thoughts after running away from home. I had checked out their story, and while I appreciated their dedication to their friend, I was trying to help them work through the decision making process: two of them were on academic probation and could not afford to have missed a day of class. Our conversation was suddenly interrupted by the principal, Pat Klekamp. "I need you now," she exclaimed. I knew immediately that something was seriously wrong. Pat always respected my privacy when dealing with students. She also always knocked before entering my space.
I followed Pat to her office, asking the school secretary to tend to the students I had left behind. Pat clued me in on the news. The students were becoming aware, as more of the teachers turned on the televisions in their rooms. "We need to do something to reassure them," Pat noted. We immediately decided to use the customary religion period after second hour as a time for sharing words of assurance and for prayer. I was given the task of pulling something together.
Less than an hour later I stood in front of the assembled student body. The mood was somber, I still recall how the kids silently entered the room. By this time both towers had fallen and it was obvious the death toll would be high. There was no doubt that our nation was under attack. There were rumors that the next city to be attacked was Dallas. It had become personal to at least two students who had relatives who were in New York City, one of whom was scheduled to be in one of the towers. The first scripture that I shared with the students and faculty was Psalm 121:1, "I looked to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord."
I continue to share that same verse with patients as I make my rounds as a hospital chaplain. Though our earth might be rocked... our souls are secure. The same Lord who watched over the Children of Israel watches over us. The Savior who strengthened the disciples and the other New Testament believers, gives us the power to stand against Satan's attacks today. We are going to be OK. We should never forget the events of 9/11 and the victims of that attack. We also should never forget our Savior, Jesus, who insures that their future and ours is secure.
Very interesting--I remember very well that meeting at the school for 9-11. I remember your asking for prayers and praying for Barb, and I remember thinking how strange it must be to be in the middle of a national crisis and to have a personal crisis that certainly must eclipse the other. I had a similar experience the day in April 1995 when the Oklahoma City bomber destroyed the federal building; how scary that was. But I also remember that the was the last day that my late wife Linda sat at the kitchen table with us and had dinner. She was in a wheel chair and the pain of holding her head up to eat was too much for her. The personal grief eclipsed the other--by a long shot. Grief is a very elastic experience.
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