God Bless the World

I was tossing and turning Tuesday night. I couldn’t hope to sleep peacefully that night, because even if everything in my little life was right, even if I had all aspects of my day in order, something very deep in the base of my soul was not right and I could not rest. Dreams and nightmares. Images of a giant plane smashing into the side of a building. People screaming. People running. Smoke. Dust. Debris. Over and over and over again…the horrific torpedo of a plane launching itself into the World Trade Center. Over and over and over again in my mind. I wondered if anyone was sleeping soundly that night. Babies maybe. The dead, of course.

My grandmother lay dying in a hospital in Augusta. I wished she had already died. I wanted her to be safe. I wanted her transition to be peaceful. I didn’t want her to leave worrying about all of us, but at the same time, I needed her to tell us what to do. What should we do Grandma?

She said, “Rebecca Ann, Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?”

“Yes, Grandma; you tell me all the time.”

“Well, you are, sweetheart. Anything that happens to you in your life will be for good because God loves you so much. I have a set of pearl earrings and a necklace I want you to have.”

“Ok, Grandma.”

“I love you so very much.”

“I love you too, Grandma.”

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

That was probably the last real conversation I’ll have with her. Now I have to figure things out for myself. We all have to be brave.

My father’s conspiracy theories were expected when I called home. They were comforting actually. They always make me laugh, not because they aren’t true or whatever, but just because I find my father humorous when he talks about the Republicans tapping our phone lines. “Don’t let anyone suspicious in your car. I think the lake house is a good place for you to stay. It’s safe there.” It’s safe there. Osama bin Laden can’t find me on a little dock on Lake Sinclair, can he?

Why do I feel so strongly about this? I don’t live anywhere near New York. I’ve never even been there. I just bought a hot pink t-shirt about a month ago with New York City scrawled across it in red glitter letters. Underneath the writing, the proud twin towers stand, very glorious, a symbol of our free world. I’ve decided not to wear the shirt for a while.

It just feels strange. Even now as I write this, there is an aching lump in my throat. It won’t go away. Whenever I see the images…whenever I think about how many people in New York are standing on the sidewalks near the former World Trade Center, waiting…waiting…waiting with a patience that I could never hope to have, I feel that lump in my throat and the hot tears welling up behind my eyes.

Tonight, someone’s mother won’t come home. Someone’s husband won’t come home. Someone’s brother won’t come home.

My mother always said something to me about patience.

“The whole world waited for three days for the Resurrection. You can wait.”

But now it’s been a week, and the pain is only dimmed by the idea that America is going to quickly rebuild and seek out those responsible. But the pain for some people will never go away. So many lives have been shattered.

In some attempt to come to terms with this tragedy, I attended the candlelight vigil. Dr. Harshbarger shared the account of a female student here at GC&SU. Her sister has worked in the World Trade Center for 18 years. She didn’t go to work that day. Oh God…the sigh that echoed through that crowd was so intense. Breathy exclamations of “praise God” and “thank God” and “Oh my God” seemed like a symphony rising from the tearful participants. Their faces were begging Dr. Harshbarger for answers, for a sense of calm. Some people were constantly crying. One boy was sitting on the ground near the steps, leaning against a wall. The most exhausted expression shrouded his face.

As I reflect on the attacks, many questions come to mind. What does it mean to be brave? How can I discover what my calling is in all of this? I am frightened. Am I supposed to hide this? I can’t give much advice, but I have faith that prayer and courage and a sense of duty will help us all live through this tragedy. God bless America. God bless the world.

Posted by Colonnade Archives on Sep 21 2001. Filed under Opinion. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry