Ten years ago I was a junior in high school. My view of the world was miniscule and naive.
I awoke the morning of September 11th just like any other day. Actually, I got up earlier than normal. I woke up and started packing my duffle bag for the away volleyball game we had at Wasatch Academy. I hadn't even left my bedroom yet. My mother came to my room and told me that my dad had just called to tell her that 2 planes had crashed into the World Trade Center. I imagined 2 planes crashing into each other and falling on top of a building. I didn't know what the WTC was (nor that it meant more than one building). I couldn't understand how something like this could happen. Was it the fault of bad air traffic control? I had also imagined that they were small, personal planes. I was wrong.
When I made it to the living room to see what was on the news I quickly understood I had no idea what was really going on. I had to keep getting ready for school but remember watching the replay of the second plane hitting the second tower and OH!, it still makes me ill to think of it.
I walked into my first classroom, the band room, and everyone was fixated on the tv. A few moments later we all watched as they showed images of the first tower collapsing. The second moment that made me ill.
Eventually my teacher turned off the tv and tried to get us to focus on rehearsal. I don't remember much else that happened in class that day. The next thing I remember was when we left for our volleyball game. For those of you that don't know, I grew up in Dugway, Ut. Dugway Proving Grounds is a military base. Up until this point entry and exit of the base had been nothing to worry about. It was a simple process. As we left I remember watching out the window and noticing a machine gun pointed towards any oncoming traffic. My hometown was changed that moment.
We drove the long 3 hour ride to our game listening to the radio almost the entire time. When they said thousands were dead, it didn't sink in at all. I was still in shock and disbelief that such a thing had happened. Our coach eventually told the bus driver to turn off the radio and told us to focus on the games we had. We played our games. Our tallest team member rolled her ankle...almost broke it. I don't remember if we won the game or not. I know we went to 3 matches though. The ride home was long and dreadful. I had a seat to myself. I remember lying there, finally able to let it all in as to what had happened that day. Thousands of people had died. Thousands of people had been terrified. For the first time that I can remember, I cried for someone I never knew.
The ride was sickening. Apparently I had fallen asleep and the bus driver decided to turn on a book on tape, because I remember waking up, listening to a creepy British voice. I didn't have my glasses on (or my contacts in) and we we going through the mountain pass that is close to home. I almost threw up. The emotions of the day, coupled with the horrifying voice on the speaker and the dizzying mountain pass flying by as my blurry vision tried to understand...it was horrible. I was confused and literally terrified.
We arrived back home, or rather, at the gate just about midnight. The base had been put on lockdown and it was a miracle that they even let us on base that night. They stopped the bus and made us all get off, open our bags and allow ourselves to be searched. It took us a half hour to get home...something that from that point normally takes less than 5 minutes.
I know it is not an original idea to write about what happened that day in my life. I am no one special in these events. I didn't know anyone that was killed and I had never actually been to New York.
Everyone in America was affected by these events in some shape or form. Some are still haunted by the events. Others are enraged. And then again, others just don't know how to deal with it anymore.
I just read some comments posted on an article about the events that are to take place tomorrow in remembrance of the attacks. It makes me as ill as I felt when I saw the second plane hit and the first tower collapse. The comments weren't kind. The comments were filth. The focus was not on what had happened and who had been lost, or who had been a hero. The comments were snide remarks about our former and current presidents.
For one moment I'd like to take a moment and reflect on the death that occurred. People were murdered, spirits were torn apart and our nation was injected with a poison. We no longer stand united. We no longer belong to a country undivided.
The terrorists succeeded in more ways than I'm sure they thought possible. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe they knew that their acts would throw our country into a downward spiral that is our tanking economy and completely divided government. Who knows. Even though Bin Laden is dead, we have not won the battle. Until our country can forget itself, learn to work together and look to the reason we even exist as a nation (God...and for me to say that right now is a bigger deal than you can imagine), I find little hope in our future as a nation. We may put on a great face, but inside we're crumbling.
But, even as we crumble, there is still enough substance left that there is some hope to cling to. And cling to it we must. We are not out of that downward spiral.
I'm grateful for the many acts of selflessness that were later told of to inspire us. It is so true; even amidst great adversity comes great strength. Through these attacks we learned that some people are still noble enough to give their life for someone else. I don't know that even I could do the same thing honestly.
The more I look back, the more I want to cry like I did that day on the bus.
An entire decade has passed. Life will never be the same. Hundreds of thousands have died since that attack. Politics are more terrifying than the literal acts of terror.
Although my thoughts are a little jumbled and not completely connected, I hope that by posting this I can feel a little more peace. Yes I feel that our country has gone in a direction I'm terrified of, but I do think that as the walls crumble around us, there is still hope to hold onto. Not only a hope that humankind can rise above the dust, and rebuild, but a hope that there are still people out there that are selfless and not selfish.
I read an article posted in the Washington Post written by President Thomas S. Monson. His words are very much needed now, more than ever.
Here's what he said:
The calamity of September 11th, 2001 has cast a long shadow. Ten
years later, many of us are still haunted by its terrible tragedy of
lost lives and broken hearts. It is an episode of anguish that has
become a defining moment in the history of the American nation and the
world.
There was, as many have noted, a remarkable surge of faith following
the tragedy. People across the United States rediscovered the need for
God and turned to Him for solace and understanding. Comfortable times
were shattered. We felt the great unsteadiness of life and reached for
the great steadiness of our Father in Heaven. And, as ever, we found it.
Americans of all faiths came together in a remarkable way.
Sadly, it seems that much of that renewal of faith has waned in the
years that have followed. Healing has come with time, but so has
indifference. We forget how vulnerable and sorrowful we felt. Our sorrow
moved us to remember the deep purposes of our lives. The darkness of
our despair brought us a moment of enlightenment. But we are forgetful.
When the depth of grief has passed, its lessons often pass from our
minds and hearts as well.
Our Father’s commitment to us, His children, is unwavering. Indeed He
softens the winters of our lives, but He also brightens our summers.
Whether it is the best of times or the worst, He is with us. He has
promised us that this will never change.
But we are less faithful than He is. By nature we are vain, frail,
and foolish. We sometimes neglect God. Sometimes we fail to keep the
commandments that He gives us to make us happy. Sometimes we fail to
commune with Him in prayer. Sometimes we forget to succor the poor and
the downtrodden who are also His children. And our forgetfulness is very
much to our detriment.
If there is a spiritual lesson to be learned from our experience of
that fateful day, it may be that we owe to God the same faithfulness
that He gives to us. We should strive for steadiness, and for a
commitment to God that does not ebb and flow with the years or the
crises of our lives. It should not require tragedy for us to remember
Him, and we should not be compelled to humility before giving Him our
faith and trust. We too should be with Him in every season.
The way to be with God in every season is to strive to be near Him
every week and each day. We truly “need Him every hour,” not just in
hours of devastation. We must speak to Him, listen to Him, and serve
Him. If we wish to serve Him, we should serve our fellow men. We will
mourn the lives we lose, but we should also fix the lives that can be
mended and heal the hearts that may yet be healed.
It is constancy that God would have from us. Tragedies are not merely
opportunities to give Him a fleeting thought, or for momentary insight
to His plan for our happiness. Destruction allows us to rebuild our
lives in the way He teaches us, and to become something different than
we were. We can make Him the center of our thoughts and His Son, Jesus
Christ, the pattern for our behavior. We may not only find faith in God
in our sorrow. We may also become faithful to Him in times of calm.
Thomas S. Monson is president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
