It's now been more than 48 hours after the attacks on the World Trace Center and the Pentagon. I feel bombarded with information...and images of the burning buildings...and accounts of survivors...and remembrances from those who lost loved ones...and pleas from people desparately trying to locate their brothers, mothers, sisters, fathers, children. It's all so tragic. Last night, as I was driving home, I finally had to shut off the radio hoping to find a single moment of peace. But all I could do is imagine what it would have felt like to be a passenger on the plane at the moment of impact. Or an office worker, pausing to admire the beautiful day in a beautiful city, only to see a huge passenger jet on a head on collission with my window; knowing there was nowhere to run...nowhere to go to escape. Or one of those who survived the initial impact and made it to the top of the tower; hoping and praying someone would find a way to get me away from the heat of the raging fire, desparately trying to breath through the burning acrid smoke that fouls the air around me...then feeling the floor beneath my feet fall away...
I've been trying to pray. I know there is solace to be found with God. It just seems like I can't say enough Our Fathers and Hail Marys to adaquately express my thanks that my friends and family are safe, my grief and sorrow for those who weren't as lucky, my hope that those who died so violently are at peace, my fear and anger at the fanatics in this world who inflict so much damage and rejoice for our losses.
Posted by jfer at September 13, 2001 1:39 PM