Twenty years ago today. Every American over a certain age can tell you exactly where they were that infamous morning of September 11, 2001. As for me, I was a 41-year-old mother on a road trip with my husband and seven children when the story unfolded.
This morning I read several inspirational stories from the Intercessors for America website of answered prayer and spared lives and other miraculous events that disastrous day, but what grabbed my attention were the accounts of various intercessors who had received a nudge from the Holy Spirit to pray in advance.
Suddenly I recalled two specific instances where I am now convinced the Holy Spirit likewise prompted me to pray shortly before that tragedy. The first was at the Air Show in Cleveland on Labor Day weekend. I was almost paralyzed with irrational fear when I saw the Blue Angels flying perilously close to the tall buildings. It was an illusion, and I knew that, but my heart began racing in an irrational manner.
The second time this happened, I was standing in front of the famous landmark in St. Louis, and way overhead I saw an airplane framed within the arch. I shuddered to think of it crashing into this place crowded with tourists, and stopped to not only take a photo, but to pray that would never happen! That was only days before September 11.
These two pictures came into my head as we listened to the news of the attack on the World Trade Center on the car radio that Tuesday morning on our drive through Texas. I remember commenting to Jim what a frightening thing it was that it had actually happened just as I pictured it.
For me, that day stands out for a more personal reason, too. September 11, 2001 was the last day I saw my dad, who passed away a year later. He was in his bedroom getting ready for work, watching the news on the TV, which was not his usual habit. I remember as we said goodbye (sadly without hug or kiss, since the children and I had some sort of cold we were trying to avoid passing along), he was uncharacteristically somber as he reported that the first plane that had just crashed.
Driving to the Rio Grande Valley on our way home to Oaxaca, we listened to the news reports in live time. Thankfully we filled up our gas tank early in the morning, because soon the lines grew long with people flocking to the gas stations in anticipation of - well, no one knew what might happen. The highways were strangely free of traffic all the way to McAllen. No planes were flying overhead. Once we got there, we heard the chilling news that the U.S. border was closed.
For the first time in history, America had completely sealed its borders. No one could cross in or out. That is when we realized how serious these attacks were. Since we would be staying longer than one night, I drove to Walmart to pick up a few groceries, and was shocked to see for the first time the video images of the towers coming down. I was horrified that they would have the news broadcast in a public place where small children might be subject to such horror.
That's how I remember it.
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