Nine years ago the world we knew, the safety we took for granted, changed in one minute.  I thought I would re post what I wrote a year ago. My prayers go out to the families and the children who lost a loved one.

I remember waking up and seeing the first tower on fire on television.  It felt surreal as I watched the second plane fly into the other tower. It didn’t seem possible that was really happening as I lay in my bed in California.

That morning started me on a journey that would turn my world upside down.  Just ten days later I walked off the plane and into New York City.  As part of a team from my church, we were there to do what little we could and identify ways to invest the money our congregation had so generously donated.

New York had always been one of my favorite places full of energy, people and lots of noises.  This time the city was quiet, very quiet,  There was a stillness, a deep sadness.  Nothing could really prepare you for the sorrow of the site or for the smell of lower Manhattan.  That smells stills comes to me once in awhile.  It was a mixture of death, fire and smoke.  It oddly reminded me of old coffee grounds.

In the quietness of the city I saw a picture of the heart of America.  People from all over the United States pouring in to help however they could.  Serving food, talking, listening and encouraging the people trying to find their loved ones.  Walking along side the rescue workers. There was the memorial wall of people who were missing and the loved ones mourning their loss.

Walking into the site I would see ashes, broken buildings and on the ground a sea of crumbled papers, pieces of people’s lives.  Across the street would be still, perfect and empty buildings. I felt like I was walking through a war zone but it was NYC.

I spent a day in the pit, talking, praying and listening.  I oddly felt out of place.  It felt like a man’s world.  Other team members went in to the morgue and ministered to the workers.  I sat in the cafeteria, outside where the big tribute to the firefighters stood and listened to them process what was happening and what they were finding.

I sat in a meeting of pastors arguing the best way to hold an event that would garner attention and felt they were missing the moment, the opportunity.

The most meaningful thing I felt we did during that trip was working with the Salvation Army.  I sat for hours in a building on Wall Street helping survivors fill out paperwork to get aid.  One by one, mostly men, workers from the Marriott, they came in, sat down and shared their story with me.  They cried and spoke in whispers of the coworkers they had lost.  One minute they were there and then they disappeared. The confusion of those moments and the loss they were feeling.  I can still see their faces and remember their stories.

I don’t know that I contributed much in those few days but the people I met and the sights I saw changed me forever.  I walked back into my life no knowing what the next weeks would require of me.  I came back with a strength and resolve that I would need in the days ahead as I faced a defining moment between me and God. But that story is for another day.  Today is for remembering those who lost their lives and the families who move forward without them.

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