Where I was...

That fateful Tuesday, I was sitting in the church office. I was working as an administrative assistant for a local Mennonite church. I flipped on the radio and heard something about a plane crashing into the first tower. I pictured a small plane and wondered if it was an accident or if someone did it on purpose, a suicide, not knowing the size of the plane, imagining it was more to harm the pilot than the people in the tower.


As I prepared the office for a Leadership Team meeting, I kept the radio on. More information was coming in but it was still in bits and pieces and no one really knew what was happening. When all had arrived for the meeting I turned the radio off. We met and opened with prayer, and offered prayer for those involved.

When the meeting was over, I turned the radio back on and heard there'd been a second plane. And when they announced that the U.S. was under attack, it was too surreal to take in. I wasn't so naive to think we couldn't be under attack. I understood why we were the enemy, but it still took my breath away.

And I knew, I knew, that it meant we were headed to war. I knew that it'd be a call to arms. My stomach lurched. I turned the radio off.


I did what I had to at work and headed home. When I got there I sat on my couch and watched the graphic replay. I sobbed, rocking back and forth and letting my spirit groan to God. The selfish part of my heart was glad that we'd waited to start having children, because in that moment- I couldn't imagine bringing a child into such a hateful world. And I grieved for all the children about to grow up with a parent taken out of this world in such a cruel way.

And I was angry, angry with all that the country I call home had done to bring this on.

I watched one circuit of the replay. And I turned it off. I couldn't take any more.

The next morning as the radio started to buzz with those words- the ones that told me a declaration of war was just a formality-- already, not even 24 hours later-- a song stirred in my heart and I turned the radio off to sing it. Dona nobis pacem, Give us peace. I sang it with tears streaming down my cheeks.

Ten years later, it is still my prayer. Dona nobis pacem.

Always be gentle with others. The Lord will soon be here. Don't worry about anything, but pray about everything. With thankful hearts offer up your prayers and requests to God. Then, because you belong to Christ Jesus, God will bless you with peace that no one can completely understand. And this peace will control the way you think and feel. --Philippians 4:5-7 CEV