Saturday, September 10, 2011

9/11 2010-2011

We lived in Tehachapi, California. California is three hours behind New York City, but at 5:45 am we were already up. We're both schoolteachers, and Marty's school starts at 7:30 am. We lived in the mountains a half hour outside of town. I had an hour and fifteen commute to my school in Palmdale.

Marty and I were exercising in the downstairs room. He was on the treadmill and I was using the weights when we heard on the radio that an airplane had crashed into the World Trade Center. The report didn't have any urgency to it - we thought maybe it was a small plane accident. I decided to go upstairs and turn on the television (any excuse to quit exercising?) while Marty finished his run. I was watching the burning tower when the other airplane came into the picture and crashed into the other tower.

Shock. Disbelief and confusion. I yelled for Marty to come upstairs. We were glued to the TV for a few minutes, but then we had to finish getting ready for school. It's funny - I can remember calling Rhiannon, but I don't remember how Calvin found out. He was a sophomore in high school and Rhiannon was a sophomore in college. I need to ask Calvin what he remembers about that morning.


I was in the car, making my hour-and-15-minute drive to work, when the first tower fell. I heard it on the radio (Air-1). I was horrified. It was more than my brain could understand. Why would someone kill thousands of regular people? It didn't make any sense at all.

I got to school, joining other shaken teachers. I pulled up the internet news and took glimpses as I prepared for class.

How to teach 7-year-olds on a day when the world as we know it has changed so drastically? Some of the kids came in talking about it. Their parents had been watching the news. We had a few students that were kept at home that day because their families were worried that California would be attacked. One of my girls said that her mom was upset because a cousin lived in New York.

We had a "Classroom Meeting." That's where we put chairs in a circle and passed a "talking stick" (small rain stick) so everyone could have a turn to speak. I gave the second graders a chance to share what they had seen or heard. Some of them saw people jumping from buildings. I explained as factually and calmly as I could what had happened. They wanted to know why someone did this. We discussed the words "freedom" and "democracy." We did go back to our regular routine, and I gave them time to "write and draw" about what had happened.

We had more classroom meetings that week as the need arose, and new questions came up. I couldn't answer the question "why", but I tried to explain what is special about America. We learned some more patriotic songs.

People in Tehachapi were hurting and confused, and we needed a prayer time. Since we were church leaders, Marty called for a prayer service. Members of our church family joined us on Wednesday to pray for our country, for the families of those who were lost, and for ourselves as we struggled to understand what this meant.

We had a women's retreat planned for that weekend, and I was one of the leaders/planners. We had a quick phone call conference - do we go forward with it? Yes, we thought it was a time we especially needed a spiritual retreat, and the precious time with sisters in Christ.

Liz and I went a day early to get things set up. We stopped in Maricopa, where we always stopped for a potty break. We met a servicewoman who was driving non-stop across the country back to her unit. She was called back from leave, but was not able to take a flight back because all flights were grounded.

Marty and I lived in the woods in the mountains, and it was eery at night the next few weeks, seeing no airplane lights among the starlight.

Everybody has stories like these... A teacher at Marty's school lost a brother in the WTC. One of our best friends, an airline pilot, flew over the WTC three days after the attack, astounded at the view of the smoking hole. Dave had been assigned a load of special services troops and landed lights-off in an unlit field in a middle-eastern desert. Another friend was working at the pentagon when it was hit. The mother of one of my students was no longer able to help in the classroom because her reserve unit was called up. A young friend of our family was clad in a burka as she headed overseas to put her language training (Farsi) to use.

Our youth group leader was "stuck" in Reno, Nevada. She and her husband did chaplain service there for air races, and all those airplanes were also grounded. They were needed there. This strange attack on our country had special meaning to recreational pilots. How horrible that airplanes could be used against us in this way. Marty is a private pilot, and has seen in the ensuing years growing regulations and prejudice against small aircraft. People today get frustrated with the TSA's pat-downs and X-rays; but they should see how the TSA has crippled small airports.

Here's what I wrote in our Christmas letter that year:
"...Marty felt a powerful draw on his spirit during these days. On September 13 Marty heard something different from the radio while exercising - the Lord's voice telling him to bring Him the lost. Marty was faithful to his Lord's command - that Friday Marty testified at youth group, and seven kids gave their lives to Christ (three recommitals, four new commitments). Those youth are represented by seven teardrops that Marty put in a cross he made for the lay director for the October men's Emmaus walk."


We do live in a different world. This week I have been trying to figure out how it has changed. Here's one of the most important ways that we have changed - many of the children, youth, and young adults who witnessed 9/11 are contributing to the world with their time and talents. I can't count how many of our friends' kids joined the armed services when they grew old enough. My children and their spouses have gone on several mission trips. They and their friends became full-time missionaries, peace-corp volunteers, teachers in other countries, and teachers here. That is a wonderful thing, and a thing that gives me hope.

This week a youth from my new church walked over from her high school to help me with my first graders. I still teach at Summerwind, where I taught ten years ago. I love seeing youth working with little ones, at Vacation Bible School or at school. Jessica asked if she could bring a friend of hers on Friday. I said yes, and was delighted to have Karleigh walk in my classroom. Karleigh was one of my students in that second grade class ten years ago, on that confusing and frightening September 11th. My heart delights in seeing Karleigh, Jessica, Kelly, Brandon, Katherine, Caroline, Victor, Janai, Calvin, Kelli, Rhiannon, Jason and others improving our world by helping, serving, and teaching others. They give me hope for the future.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul.
And sings the tune
Without the words,
and never stops at all.
- Emily Dickinson


Hope has a way of turning its face to you
just when you least expect it
you walk in a room
you look out a window
and something there leaves you breathless
you say to yourself
it's been a while since I felt this
but it feels like it might be hope
- Sara Groves

2 comments:

  1. Thank you for sharing. xo

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  2. My son's memories of that morning:

    I was a sophomore in high school; my mom, woke me up saying a plane had hit a building I had never heard of. I was confused, because I remembered a recent news report of a small plane hitting a billboard, and wondered why my mom was waking me up to tell me this. I walked out of my room into the loft where I could see the TV in the living room, and just sank to the floor, shocked at what I was seeing on TV.

    That day at school, I was so angry because our teachers seemed afraid to (or maybe told not to) talk about what was happening. In my first period weight lifting class, we always had the radio on, and that day the radio was shut off just after we heard the report of a tower falling.

    Later that day, I went and talked to an Army recruiter (I don't know if I told my parents about this) and asked if I could sign up- I was so angry, I wanted to fight somebody- didn't care who. He said the soonest I could sign up would be at 17, so I'd have to wait. I'm thankful for that, given the last ten years of non-stop war.

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