Maribel sat down and started to tell me her story.  She was a maid at the Marriott World Trade Center.  She had been there on 9/11, just one week before.  I was helping her fill out papers to receive aid for rent and food.

“I can’t forget what I saw” she cried.  She told me how her daughters were trying to help her but she couldn’t stop crying. We talked about journaling and writing down how she felt.  She talked about going to church, that she felt better when she went there. “There are no jobs, I don’t know what will happen to us” she said.

Miguel was next in line and sat on chair across from the little round table we were using as a make shift desk.  Skip was to my left and Tom to my right.  Each of us asking names and addresses while we filled out the papers.  It wasn’t long before Miguel started sharing his story, tears streaming down his face.  He had been working at the Marriott too, as many of the people we would see that day.

“I have nightmares” he said.  He went on to describe the horrific events of that day, the horrific things that he saw.  “My friend, he was behind me, and then he disappeared.  I don’t know what happened to him.  He didn’t make it out. I can’t sleep, when I do the nightmares come back” he cried. “How will I provide for my family?”

I felt overwhelmed, what words could I offer to him.  I had to take deep breaths so that I didn’t join him in his tears.  We talked about God, about finding a church, people he could talk to that could help him process all that he was feeling.

Some days words seem so cheap.  That day all I offered up a voucher for one month’s rent, money for food and the gift of listening.

This week I found my journal from ten years ago.  We went five days after to help on behalf of our church.  One of the days we were assigned to the Salvation Army helping give people vouchers and another day we were at Ground Zero trying to find words as we sat with the rescue workers.

On the flight home I wrote down everything we had done and seen.  I did not want to forget.  But I did.  I forget his name until I saw it again, though I never forgot his pain.

Skip and I are talking about our trip on Adventures In The Kitchen today on KKLA 99.5.  He reminded me of things I had forgotten.  The men and their shoes melting as they tried to dig through the rubble.  I remember the flight attendants being so nervous and every time I fly I think about how in an instant everything changed.

Today as we gather with friends, as a community or with our a church family to remember we will pray for those whose lives ended way too early.  The ones who courageously ran up those stairs as others ran down. I am praying for Miguel and Maribel.  I pray they found peace and most of all they found the healing only God can bring.

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