I’ve worked my entire life – five days a week (or more), 9 to 5 (or more), in and out of traffic (always). It is tiresome and tedious. I was pumped that I had made it through “Miserable Monday,” the first day of that long five-day stretch to which I so looked forward to known as “Fabulous Friday.” As this particular Tuesday dawned, I was up, dressed, having eaten an almost healthy breakfast, and heading out the door to get ahead of the daily downtown commute.
Once I arrived in my building, I was met by a co-worker running down the hall frantically looking for a television. I directed her to the corporate Communications Center and then inquired what was going on. She spoke almost in tears, “A plane has crashed into the World Trade Center.” I immediately thought, “Well, that’s not good. Must have been a small plane.” I rushed to my desk to see what was going on. Unable to log onto my normal social media feeds because of high online volume, I went to lesser known sites. That’s when I saw the visuals — it was not a small plane that hit the tower, but a very large one. Then I saw another large plane crash into the other tower. That’s when I knew this was no mistake – these were intentional attacks. That’s how September 11, 2001 started for me.
By mid-morning the entire world was glued to the unfolding events of that day. America was under attack and no one knew if other cities would be targeted. The loss was monumental. This Tuesday certainly was not just “any other day” – it would always be remembered as “9/11.”
Over time, stories of those whose lives were spared that day came to the surface. Like the CEO of a major company who survived the attacks simply because it was his turn to take his child to preschool. Another lived because it was his day to bring donuts. A woman was late because her alarm clock didn’t go off. Another got stuck in traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike. Someone missed her bus. One woman spilled coffee on her blouse and had to change. Another’s car didn’t start. Someone returned to answer a phone call. A child took too long getting dressed making their parent late. And one man survived because he got a blister from new shoes, causing him to stop at a pharmacy to buy a bandage.
Countless acts of bravery would be told. There were individual human experiences woven into the larger catastrophe of that Tuesday, unfolding human sacrifice even in the darkest moments of history. When I remember the events of September 11, 2001, I grow thankful that I’m exactly where God wants me to be at any given moment – those delays are my protection. While I don’t always react as I should, I try not to panic or get angry, instead realizing God can very well be at work protecting me in ways I don’t realize at the time.
What started out on September 11, 2001, as “any other day,” certainly didn’t end that way. “Where were you when 9/11 happened?” This question comes up in discussions all the time. On the anniversary of such a tragic day, perhaps we recall that day because of the power of a shared experience. There is definitely a lot of tragedy and a lot of suffering in our world. We see it in obvious ways like the evil that was carried out on September 11, 2001, and we see it in more subtle ways in ourselves. That’s where our personal faith is so important to hold and uplift us.
“We can be united as believers in the assurance that, no matter what darkness and trials come, our God “causes everything to work together for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose for them.” (Romans 8:28)
Debby Efurd is co-founder of Cary John Efurd Ministries of Pittsburg, TX. She has been a contributor to Bound for Life and written numerous articles published in LifeNews, Christian Post and the Baptist Standard, and is the author of Go Tell It! Debby can be contacted at caryjohnefurdinistries@gmail.com. Visit her at the Second Mile blog at https://debbyefurd.com.
