9/11/02: One Year Later

Originally appeared in the Pittsburgh Daily Courier, September 17, 2002

Was there a dry eye anywhere on the Eleventh of September last year? I remember calling my wife Laura from work: "Ummm... have you heard anything unusual this morning? Why don't you put the kids in another room and turn on the TV..."

It was a day that broke the heart of America. Indelible images of towers crumbling in slow motion. Dreams swept away in ashen clouds of gray. Endless loops of somber imagery streaming through the airwaves as a new reality sinks in.

Two decades ago, these words were written of war torn Belfast, Ireland, describing courage in the face of adversity:

There has to be an invisible sun
Gives its heat to everyone
There has to be an invisible sun
Gives us hope when the whole day's done

Autumn sorrow gave birth to a new spirit of unity in America. Who would have thought that high school students across the country with bare midriffs and baggy pants would pledge allegiance at candlelight vigils? Who would have predicted that "God Bless America" would be the watchword of our day?

I believe in miracles. I believe in guardian angels. If you don't, I'm not offended. But doesn't it seem like there was a lot of both that day?

Personal accounts told to me: A pregnant NYC advertising executive calls in sick that day - for the first time in seven years. Newlyweds booked on that ill-fated flight from Newark to San Francisco, bumped to an identical flight: Same destination. Same departure time. Different airline. They witnessed the flaming tragedy through their airplane window as they flew by.

The coincidences are so profound that what you think about this really says more about your own belief system than it says about the facts at hand.

Where was God when New York was burning? He was helping thousands of people somehow, inexplicably, show up late for work on a Tuesday morning. He was placing sentries who calmly directed secretaries and executives alike to safety. Though He'd been summarily dismissed from our schools, businesses and even churches, He still showed up for work that day.

We lost 2819, not 28000. That's miracle in my book.

And last December when I wrote our family's Christmas letter, I couldn't think of a better metaphor for the Christmas story: New York firefighter charges up a smoke filled stairwell, knowing he'll never come down. God's Son comes to shoulder the sorrows of the world, knowing His life will end in bitter suffering and cruel death. Duty calls. Both entrust themselves to God's severe mercy. "Not my will, but Thine be done."

One of the things I remember most was the condolences and comforting words we personally received from friends all over the world - Germany, Sweden, Australia, Japan and Brazil. One of my brother's friends in China even cut her hair short as a sign of mourning.

And most of all, our good neighbours in Canada. Most of us Americans weren't even aware - but nearly every car, home and apartment balcony in Canada had an American Flag waving proudly.

Thank you so much.

There's something about tragedy that reminds us how short life is, and how precious our freedom is. What could more appropriate than for frenetic business people to pause and be reminded that we only get one shot at this fragile thing called life?

Across our country there were thousands of memorial services, both small and large. Did you take the time away from your busy schedule and attend one? I also joined you as we remembered and prayed for our nation.

Sincerely,

Perry S. Marshall

Chicago, IL

(c)2002 Perry S. Marshall & Associates. You are welcome to forward, broadcast or reprint this in its entirety.