I watched the 9/11 New York events unfold on television as I spoke to someone on the phone who was looking at the same scene from his window a few blocks away, it was hard to believe it was real. Part of me was sure I was dreaming. It was a dream gone bad and getting worse. As it was, in horror I could do nothing. I was shocked, numbed, and confused. A colleague dismissed it as nothing. If only either of us knew then how different things would be in the days to come.
Within two weeks I was at ground zero. I walked the dusty streets, breathed the air that still had particulates from the collapsed buildings. I knew I needed to make this walk. I wanted to remember, always remember, the pain and loss. I wanted to etch the value of life within my heart and across my soul. In the days right after the terrible event, it felt like New York was different. The hard edge had been replaced by empathetic understanding. The aggressiveness by compassion and a sense of community. The critical way of seeing the other by a sense of hope and resiliency. It was a time of tragedy and sadness mixed with courage, resolve, and a will to live.
As I think of that day and the time that followed, I knew there are many who remember the events in extreme detail. They get it. It was a turning point, a moment where love emerged to take center stage. There are some that seem to let go, if only to survive. In some cases, “it wasn’t long before they forgot the whole thing, wouldn’t wait to be told what to do.” (Psalm 106.13)
My wish for everyone alive then or touched by the events is for healing and restoration. May you know the joy of forgiveness, the freedom that comes from letting go of pain and failures, and the hope that grows with each act of kindness.
The work of hope continues. So much remains to be done.
