The Path to 9/11

I recently had the privilege of watching the entire 5-hour dramatized story of the September 11th tragedy, called The Path to 9/11.  I am not proud of the fact that I am embarrassingly ignorant about politics, world news, and governmental goings on.  I’m getting better, but somehow that portion of our homeschool curriculum just didn’t stick.  But I was intrigued by this film, and thankful for investing the time to watch it, and left more thankful than ever for how God protected me on that tragic day seven years ago.

On September 10th, 2001 I was in Brasil on a mission trip with a group of students from OSU.  Our team leaders, Ryan and Darcy Sugai, were staying in Brasil, so another team member, Matt, and myself were the leaders for the trip back.  We were basically just a bunch of kids, and Matt and I did the best we could to corral the group in the right direction (all we thought we had to do was make one transfer at the Miami airport).  We flew into Miami early Tuesday morning, September 11th, ate Cinnabon rolls during our two-hour layover (isn’t it interesting how the particulars stick out to you looking back on tragic days?). After cinnamon rolls we brushed our teeth, and embarked on our plane, a United Airlines flight, with a full fuel tank, scheduled to take us cross-country to Portland after a quick stop in Atlanta.  The flight wasn’t full, so after flying all night long from Sao Vicente, Brasil, we were thrilled to stretch out and pray for some much-needed shut-eye.

I awoke from my sleep to a voice over the intercom, “Please put your seat in the full and upright position, tray tables locked in place, please stow any carry-on bags you may have and discontinue use of electronic devices at this time.”  I stayed where I was, thinking I must be dreaming, knowing we’d only been in the air for maybe an hour tops.  Soon an attendant came and laid a hand on my shoulder, “Miss, up please. Now.”  She sounded urgent, and as I rubbed my eyes in confusion, sitting up and slipping on my shoes, a little chill ran down my spine. What was going on?  Soon the pilot came on explaining that Air Traffic Control was commanding all flights in US airspace to emergency land immediately.  All planes in the U.S.? He explained that he didn’t know the cause but we were emergency landing in Birmingham, Alabama immediately.  As we landed in the tiny airport, the landing strip in no way equipped for a plane of our size, we taxied out into the middle of a large field, where we were told to get off the plane, carrying nothing–no purses, no carry-ons, nothng.  So, with nothing but the clothes on our back, confused and a a little unnerved, we obediently disembarked, and joined the other blurry eyed passengers in the middle of the field.  I realized all of a sudden that Matt and I better be ready to lead a little more than we’d anticipated.  We circled hands with the team and began to pray, and it was then that a woman on her cell phone became hysterical, saying the Two Towers of the World Trade Center had been the target of terrorist attack–with hijacked flights flown directly into them.  We were stunned, beyond words, slowly realizing how incredibly blessed we were to even be alive.

After an hour in the field, they let us into the airport, but we couldn’t leave the terminal.  We had no purses, and no money for food, but no one was interested in eating.  When we walked into the airport, every TV in every restaurant carried the same news. Thousands were dead, another plan was hijacked.  The U.S. was under attack.  I realized then with horror that every single person had families at home, families wondering if our flight was hijacked.  Cell phones were useless–no service.  We took turns making collect calls back home.  I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath, in shock, until I heard my dad’s voice, full of anxiety.  “Hello??”  “Daddy, I’m safe!”  I could hear him break down crying, which of course made me do that same.  I heard him whisper, “She’s ok” to my mom.  Eventually I managed to explain we were in Birmingham and had no idea what would happen next.  But we were safe, and with that news they were content.

What we thought was perhaps an hour or two delay ended up being five days.  With hundreds of other stranded passengers, we curled up on the floor to nap, waiting for news.  Eventually night came, and we were told that there was no promise of when flights would resume.  With no local contacts and no money, Matt and I and the team began to pray–where would we stick 18 college students?  United AIrlines graciously arranged for lodging for us at a nearby hotel, and soon the shuttle came to take us to our new temporary home, in Birmingham, Alabama.

Our five days in Alabama actually were a miracle. A local church heard of our plight and volunteered to take us in.  They took us out to dinner, arranged for transportation to church for their midweek service where they prayed for us, and even took one guy and one girl from our team to Kmart to buy bulk packages of underwear (size Medium…we figured that was a safe call) and toothbrushes for the group.  As for clothes, we traded back and forth, pairing skirts with each others’ t-shirts and washing socks in the sink.  The hotel we were at actually had a beautiful indoor pool…but alas, no swimsuits. The girls shared chapstick and a tube of mascara, and we all bonded more in 5 days than we had on the entire trip thus far.  It was an adventure, but an emotional one, as each day drug on longer and longer, our clothes getting smellier, our hearts getting more and more homesick, the emotional up and down of each day hoping for a flight and each day learning there were no flights.  Each day was filled with news, the paper, and the realization that we were amongst the more fortunate of Americans, to have our lives and our loved ones.

So today, seven years later, I’m thankful but sobered.  I’m not a very patriotic person, just meaning that I identify myself as a Christian, not as an American.  However, I would say that my generation has lost something, in that we take for granted so much that our ancestors fought, sacrificed, and died for.  We criticize our country while we drive around our SUVs and sit in our nice homes, safe and secure and financially free.  While I don’t worship this country, I will never stop being thankful for the freedom, security, and peace that I enjoy here.  And this day reminds me never to take that for granted.

I guess I just wanted to reflect today, both on a personal level–how thankful I am for God’s protection seven years ago, and on a national level, how blessed we are to live in this country.  I pray for humble and thankful hearts for the American people, for a return to the ways of the Lord, and for knees to bow to the one true King who is Lord of every tribe, tongue, and nation.  And I pray we would never take for granted the freedom we enjoy in this country.  Thank You, Father.