A Post About 9/11: Memories From Sixth Grade

There have been several posts and writings of expression regarding this date 10 years ago. Countless memories, experiences and thoughts for the future have been shared. Regardless of the volume of posts similar perhaps to this one, I feel I should take a stab at it myself.

It’s strange to me to think about where I was in life 10 years ago. I’ve shared before about my end-all fear of thunderstorms and the effect that had on my life since I was little, right until middle school. I had gotten over that fear and started to enjoy the beauty of storms and the weather in general without the knot in my stomach begging me to hide on a perfectly clear day.

September 11, 2001, brought that encompassing feeling of fear back to life.

I was in sixth grade, going about the day like any other, when after first hour the announcements came on through the P.A. as they usually do. The principal was speaking, and she had a different announcement to share: A plane had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York City.

Honestly, I didn’t know that the World Trade Center was identified as two towers that shot up into the sky. I thought the Empire State Building was the tallest building in New York, so how did a plane manage to crash into it?

I didn’t understand what was going on. Our teacher explained to us what he had heard and what he believed was happening. It was clarifying, sure, but only made me more afraid. All I wanted was to be with my family.

The day went on; we heard about more attacks, the towers tumbling, the loss of life. Nobody knew what to expect next. Were we in danger? I certainly imagined we were.

I remember sitting in Reading class having free time to read our books for a book report we had due. I was reading the Left Behind: The Kids series – suddenly, those books didn’t seem so interesting anymore. Just frightening. I held the book open, but couldn’t read a word past a certain point.

Coming home on the bus, I thought, “How could such a beautiful day have such bad stuff happen during it?” The weather was a reminder of how clear things were: blue sky, lovely temperatures, chilly enough to wear my Tigger jacket. I haven’t worn that jacket since.

I didn’t understand how my dance classes could still be meeting that evening. Didn’t they know what could happen? My friend from dance and her parents came to her house as they did every week, but I didn’t want to listen to the conversation at the dinner table. Nobody knew if it was over yet.

I went to dance classes anyway, and we sat around in a circle at one point after stretching. Our teacher discussed with us how we felt. She was so calm and sympathetic, what I needed to hear then. We practiced splits against the wall for the duration of a song by Enya, one I always associate with that day now.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I was restless with thoughts of the potential. Watching “Spy Kids” sort of helped, my mom reading a book to me definitely helped, but being alone in the dark with no real grasp for anything frightened me beyond reason. I went to my parents’ room and my mom came back to help me fall asleep.

The weekend before this all happened, I had asked my parents if I could be baptized. I felt triumphant in God’s love that I was no longer afraid of storms. I knew he was bigger than all of it. I knew I wanted to serve him with my life. Those fears rushing back froze me, made me wonder what God was doing. I never blamed him or doubted him, just didn’t step out in my own faith to trust he was going to take care of me – just as he had in every storm.

The next day, I was hasty. I stayed home from school with the excuse that I didn’t sleep much. Although it was true, I didn’t feel like leaving home, my one safe haven. I tried to watch movies like “Anastasia” to distract me, but the newspaper on the kitchen table was daunting. I peered at the information, trying to learn what I could about something so new to my 11-year-old mind. I didn’t know who the man was who planned this; I didn’t know what would happen today or tomorrow.

I did know that I didn’t want to wait any longer. God draws us to him for certain in different ways. My shyness about asking to publicly devote my life to Christ had put me off this long – it was time to do something about it.

My dad and I talked about baptism in detail after he got home from work that day. I knew I wanted to do it. We had church service that night, and the arrangements were easy to make. It was so good to be with church family that evening, praying for our country and seeing that we are all in this together. The words to songs and the Scriptures started to take on a new depth for me, applying them to this period of my life.

After the service, my dad baptized me. I was excited, nervous and still shaken, but ultimately ready. If I wasn’t supposed to do this with my life, what else was there?

I remember being hugged and kissed, even though I was wet. I remember having ice cream afterward with my family. I remember police cars passing by, on alert for anything. But I remember feeling a sort of peace I had needed to encounter again.

God prevails. No matter what happens, God wins in the end. There’s so much in this world that is not good, that we ourselves have caused. That’s it: God wants better for us. That’s why he wants us to live with him forever.

And yes, I full-heartedly believe that.

“Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer.
From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe.
I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings.
For you, God, have heard my vows; you have given me the heritage of those who fear your name.
Increase the days of the king’s life, his years for many generations.
May he be enthroned in God’s presence forever; appoint your love and faithfulness to protect him.
Then I will ever sing in praise of your name and fulfill my vows day after day.” – Psalm 61

I don’t like that 9/11 happened. It makes me sad, humble, scared and solemn. But I can’t say I wish it hadn’t happened. If that’s what it took to shove me to God, I’m accepting of that.