Over the course of this blog, I’ve shared this story more than any other.
It was a beautiful morning in Upstate New York. We were living in Fort Edward, NY at the time. I was pastoring a small Wesleyan church there. We had gotten the girls on the bus. Like I said, a beautiful blue sky, no humidity – just beautiful. I was scheduled to go to work at Radio Shack later in the day – I worked 12 to 8 on Tuesdays.
On that morning, I had gone over to the office in the church to work on my message. Just a little before 9, Pam came over and told me a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I was thinking, “that’s strange.” My first thought was that it was a small plane and perhaps the weather was different 2-1/2 hours to the south. I continued to work on my sermon, when Pam came back over and said a second plane crashed into the other tower. Immediately, my thought was that is no accident, so I rushed over to see the news.
We sat there watching the events unfold before our very eyes…just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. I still will never forget holding James after hearing that the first tower fell. Pam had gone up to get some lunch. After she got home, we ate and then I went to work. We watched the coverage and tried to process it all. I think for my generation, it was the equivalent to Pearl Harbor or the shooting of JFK.
Today we remember when the world stopped turning…