I remember getting up that day, surprised to see my Father still at home. He had usually left for work before I even woke up. The TV was on, another phenomenon. Unlike most people, my family rarely watched television other than our daily dose of “The Big Valley” during lunch. When I saw the news reports and understood what had happened I didn’t really understand. I was young then, just shy of my 9th birthday. I could not fathom the magnitude of what had happened.
A few years ago for 9/11 my university encouraged each of the students to go by a desk in the residence halls and fish a name out of a box, the name of a person who had died in the World Trade Centers on that fateful day. They asked us to pray for that person’s family. The name I drew was one Shimmy Biegeleisen. Ever since then I have prayed for his family to be comforted and to come to know my Jesus as their Saviour. I have not prayed every day, but as they came to mind, and every September 11.
It is hard to believe that it has been 12 years since the Twin Towers fell. 9/11 has changed the world. I didn’t understand what it meant when I saw the footage replaying on my television screen that morning, but I do now. 9/11 has become a defining juncture for my generation. We will never forget the people who died in the planes, in the towers, in the rescue efforts, or in the war that followed.