Today is a very rainy, damp, and gray day. Yesterday was a beautiful sunny day, with blue skies and white, puffy clouds. I remember where I was nineteen years ago on September 11, 2001, a day much like yesterday but oh, so much more violently ugly. Our country’s path was completely changed by evil men whose hatred of us consumed their souls and left no room for compassion and love.
I was teaching one of my sixth grade music classes when I heard a knock at my classroom door. My friend asked me to step out into the hallway where she told me that the World Trade Center had been attacked by two planes. Shortly thereafter, we heard of Flight 93 where passengers took over the plane from hijackers and crashed it into a corn field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. Another plane hit the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. The immensity of these attacks still puts a pit in my stomach and a heaviness in my heart.
On that day, we were brought to our knees by an evil so vile and angry that America needed to reach deep down into our souls for courage, resilience, compassion, strength, and love. I was not born yet to witness America’s resolve when Japan attacked the Hawaiian islands in WWII, but I know I was proud to be an American as we came together as one nation to crush the evil that was perpetrated on us on 9/11. Have we made those who died on that devastating day proud, or are they crying in heaven, watching us become a divided nation in the nineteen years since that date?
Yesterday, people of all races, nationalities, creeds, and religions gathered at the 9/11 site in New York City and Shanksville to pay tribute to loved ones of all kinds. A handkerchief, a fireman’s cap, pictures of the lost, the last remaining pillar of the towers, and the last set of 68 steps from the towers are reminders of the sacrifices of so many lost souls, lost mothers and sisters, lost husbands and brothers, and yes, even children. Sitting here listening to Reba McIntyre sing, “How Great Thou Art,” and remembering my own pain in hearing three families were forever changed in my own school district on that day, I know God is still great, still brings good out our pain, and still lets His love shine from the site in New York City.
The television program last night began with a multi-aged choir singing, “There’s a Place for Us” from “West Side Story,” and I can’t help but feel that we all need to keep working at becoming better Americans and better individuals. We must never take for-granted the freedoms the people of 9/11 stood for; we must keep struggling to build a better world for our children, despite the evil that lurks around every corner. It will take courage, love, and determination to make sure their sacrifices weren’t for nothing.
The program ended with a brass ensemble playing Aaron Copland’s “Fanfare for the Common Man.” We are, each and everyone of us, a tiny thread in the tapestry of America’s past, present, and future. There’s a place for all of us, from the most simply educated to the most highly educated, from the poorest to the richest, from the youngest to the oldest. In the meaning of the African term, ubuntu, “I am because we are.” We must return to the One who made our country great, God Almighty. He heals our pains, gives us purposes to fulfill, and creates a world so beautiful that no other place compares in the universe. I believe we can be “One Nation Under God” once again by following His only begotten Son, Jesus Christ.
In Virgil’s words, “No day shall erase you from the memory of time.” The enemies that attacked us on 9/11 sought to destroy our souls; all they did was make our spirits stronger and our freedoms more precious. So rise up, America, to become the loving and compassionate country I believe you can be. May we be God’s light in a troubled world and be instruments for His love for generations to come.
Anna Hartt
