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Where were you when the world stopped turning?

9/11/2016

3 Comments

 
Each generation has a defining moment with which every one of its members can answer the question "Where were you when?".  For my grandparents it was Pearl Harbor.  For my parents it was the shooting of JFK.  For me, it is 9/11.  It is interesting that when I started teaching 6th-8th graders in 2003 we could have a meaningful conversation about the impact of that day and their memories of it.  By the time I taught my last group of 6th graders in 2014, they had not yet been born on that fateful day.  In many ways, that day has defined the lives and times of my generation for the last 15 years.
My memories of that day are clear and distinct.  I was staying with an aunt and uncle for a couple of days before my fall college semester started.  My cousin had started already and because I loved school, I attended her English class with her on Monday morning.  The teacher was a WW2 vet; he was talking about the recent 56th anniversary of the treaty with Japan and how our generation had enjoyed peace in our time, and I could not imagine the world that he had grown up in surrounded by first the reality of global war and then the threat of nuclear war.  The 90's had been a charmed time, he told us, and we shouldn't expect them to last.  I chuckled, but as a student of history I knew he was right.  I just couldn't see how it could possibly happen anytime soon.
Tuesday morning I was awakened at around 6 AM pacific time to my aunt watching the news in the living room and found myself trying to make sense of what I was seeing.  The first of the towers had been hit and smoke was billowing out.  At that point everyone thought it was a horrific accident.  I then watched in stunned disbelief as minutes later the second plane came into the shot and sliced through the second tower's midsection.  I knew at that moment that reality for this nation had been irrevocably altered.  I spent the next 24 hours, much like everyone else, trying to process what exactly had happened and to make sense of a senseless situation.  A fair amount of time was spent worrying about what was next.  At that time I was interning as a junior high leader in my church so I spent time re-working the "lesson" for Wednesday night and the following Sunday.  At the age of 21, I had no idea how to talk to 12 and 13 year olds about evil and tragedy on this scale.  I didn't even know how to talk about it to myself.
On Wednesday, I got in my taupe 1992 Chevy Corsica (yeah, I was cool in college) to drive the 3 and a half hours back to Orange County.  There's a long stretch without much in the way of radio stations on California's central coast, so much of the ride was in silence and I was alone with my thoughts.  As I approached the north end of LA county, it suddenly hit me: "There are no planes in the sky!"  I had always taken for granted seeing numerous airliners dotting the skyline on this drive and today the skies were empty of aircraft.  The reality of the situation hit home for the first time and I found myself in tears over the enormity of what had occurred.  
More than the reality of the tragedy though, something else became real in that moment for me.  I had spent the years from 7th through 12th grade on the mission field in Romania with my family.  Spending that formative time abroad had the result that I thought of myself as neither an American nor a Romanian.  I was what is called a "Third Culture Kid", equally not at home everywhere.  In that moment on US Hwy 101 that Wednesday morning in 2001, I for the first time felt that something that had happened to America had happened to "us" rather than to "them".  It was the first time as an adult that I thoroughly identified myself as "an American".  It was healing to be able to grieve in the subsequent days with my fellow countrymen and stand in solidarity as we watched the herculean heroics of first responders and heard a president rally a people together in unprecedented unity (however short-lived).  While I had returned to California three years earlier, there was a sense in which I had finally come home.
Where were you when the world stopped turning?
3 Comments
Karen Stewart
9/11/2016 02:02:27 pm

I remember exactly where I was on 9/11 and when JFK was shot, and even a few vague memories from WWII, like rationing, blimps, blackouts, and subsequent school drills during the cold war. What touched me in what you wrote is how 9/11 brought you home, made you feel American . I can identify with that because of my grandchildren, but I mourn the fact that so many so qu8ckly lost that identity and pride.

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Theresa Anderson-Varney
9/11/2016 04:51:37 pm

I was working in my office on that Tuesday. Ashley was on her way to Chicago. I didn't know what was happening until a client told me what was happening. We had a small tv in the office then. We turned it on just in time to see the second plane hit the towers. I was in shock, what to do. I called Ashley and told her to come home immediately. She didn't want to and felt it important to go ahead. I remember her saying there were no planes in the sky, it was eerie. I didn't know if I should go home or keep working. As the third plane crashed I thought I would stay for those who would want to come
Everyone came. Not an appointment missed on such a devastating day. I didn't know if war had begun and there would be more but it was important to carry on and do Christ's work in the face of whatever this meant. From that day on I spent months talking with people about how their lives had been changed. I know of people who were suppose to be in the towers that day but for different reasons were not there. I know of lots of stories, but no one I know list anyone. We carried on, I can Rememberer the following Sunday at Berean. We were clinging tigether, so thankful we could worship together, and prayed others would come to know Him through this experience. Many people went to church because of that day in September 2001.

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Ashley Anderson-Varney
9/13/2016 12:39:00 am

I can remember that day as if it was yesterday. I was driving to Chicago for a few days. Just as I reached exit 34 on I-94 in Indiana my cell phone rang. It was Theresa calling & telling me to turn around & come home. She said turn the radio on and she told me all about the events. It was so hard to believe this could happen in the USA. Immediately I started praying. I knew that Thetesa would be safe in Grand Rapids because GR was not a city was a target....the news said Chicago was. I was not scared for myself but for the people of Chicago. Where I was staying in Chicago there were people who were not believers. It felt like God was telling me to continue on. As I reached the city the skies were empty not a plane anywhere.....weird. When I pulled into the Hotel I always stayed at so many of the staff ....who were now my friends...were hysterical. I knew I was right in coming here & not going home. The next 2 days I was able to talk to these people about God & His Son Jesus. They were amazed I wasn't afraid. I told them I was in a win win situation. If there was an attack & I died I would go life with God forever . If not I would go home to my family. It was a blessing to be there with these people who I had been friends with for almost 5 years. I believe God put me there on that horrible day to bring the good News of Jesus Christ to those who were not saved. For me God has given me a peace in my heart that could only come from Him. I believe that the Bible is the only truth we have so when it says God does not give us the spirit of fear but of love joy peace& around mind. I believe that & know that the fear is coming from the enemy .. So that is how my day was on 9/11.

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    Marcus Little is the Senior Pastor of Berean Baptist Church.  This blog is a place where he can share  his thoughts and reflections on how Scripture intersects with life, work, community, culture and the events of our times.

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Berean Baptist Church​
1574 Coit Ave. NE
​Grand Rapids, MI, 49505
(616) 363-9824
  • About
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