September
11, 2001
by Peggy Proctor
It was early
this morning after jogging around my quiet neighborhood, I began
tidying up the garage when my good friend, Linda, on a morning stroll
asked, "What are you doing today?" Little did I suspect what I or
the rest of the world would be doing this day of days.
A neighbor called
with the news. "Oh, it's horrible. The World Trade Center has just
been hit by a plane and the Pentagon too. Terrorists..." Her words
trailed off as I clicked through the channels with the remote. I
had just been in New York less than two weeks ago to settle our
daughter, Kristen into her new apartment in upper Manhattan and
to get her securely oriented at Columbia University.
Though peace
enveloped me, I stood before the screen in utter disbelief. Is this
a movie or just a terrible dream that I can awaken from and go back
to sweeping the cobwebs out of the corners? I shook my head over
and over again; this cannot be happening! My eyes were riveted and
transfixed on the tragic and sobering sight, but knew I must pick
up the telephone. As I started to dial, the phone rang. It was my
husband away in another sector of the country who had also tuned
in on this frightful specter. "I haven't been able to reach Kristen.
The phone just gives this funny little sound, like the line is busy,"
he said.
We made a round
of calls to sisters, brothers, nephews and friends who worked in
D.C. or Manhattan, but the line was dead to Kristen's apartment.
At last the
awaited phone call came. A tearful voice on the other end said,
"Mother, I was at school and heard about the crash and raced up
to the tenth floor to watch the TV and saw the second building get
hit.
"Mother, pray
for all the people and their families. Pray that they will be comforted."
"I know. I will,"
I said, "it is so horrible. Are you going to be all right? I'm so
glad you have the Spirit to wrap loving arms around you. Get some
extra food to have on hand."
"I just heard
another explosion," she interjected. "Call, Dad; he is taking this
hard, and call Grandma and the others and let them know that I'm
okay."
Later came this
email from her to all the family:
Hello wonderful
family,
I just wanted
you to know that so far everything is all right. We're organizing
places as well as food for those who cannot leave the island or
live downtown to stay. It doesn't appear that there is any chemical
or biological threat. We're not to leave the neighborhood unless
there is a need for volunteers; we'll find out in a couple of
hours. This is all so tragic. From our balcony we watched the
second tower fall this morning. We're concerned about family and
friends working in the Towers and in the area. Dad said that Lance
Pritchett works there. Many people are very broken up emotionally,
children in the area are especially traumatized. Pray for the
comfort of all of the people and for peace. This is so sad. I
love you all.
Kristen
It wasn't until
late afternoon when reports started coming in of the acts of humanity,
that I could finally cry. The firemen and policemen, some who had
given 40 years of service, or were retired, or had been on vacation
came to help. Many of them went down with the building. A man trapped
in the subway for some hours related the relative calm and peace
over the people who were doing an unheard of thing, giving up their
seats in the subway in the spirit brotherhood.
The Red Cross
was full to over flowing with blood donors. There were the myriad
of medical personnel, some who became injured themselves, healing
the physical and emotional wounds with great compassion. And there
were the hundreds and hundreds of volunteers. One group of brawny
and brave construction workers stands out in my mind. When a reporter
asked one why he was going in there, he puffed out his chest as
he lengthened his stride fearlessly, "If there is one life in there
that I can save, that's all, one life,"
Mayor Guiliani
said that we have enough volunteers, more than enough, but tomorrow
or the next day-people will tire and nerves wear thin.
What are the
questions on people minds? "Will there be war?" said an elderly
woman. What is next? How can we help? We had had a shared experience,
so enormous in its impact, that every other small, concern seemed
to vanish before it.
I later replied
to Kristen's mail with this:
Dearest Kristen,
I pray that
that the Comforter will warm you, ease your pain and that of all
the nation and particularly the families of those who have lost
or given their lives. I am still stunned. I have watched the succession
of events a hundred times today and still shake my head in disbelief.
Tears came
when I heard of the beautiful humanity that surfaced in the wake
of this terrible tragedy. I know you will have the spirit to guide
you in giving words of comfort to those in real trauma.
I called Em's
school to have them tell her that she had a dental appointment
today. They called her to the office; she was panicked that something
was wrong with you! "My heart was pounding," she said. " I felt
terrible to have caused her such fright.
Our friend
Lance Pritchett who used to work in the Towers lives in Boston
now and so is fine. Becky doesn't work at the Pentagon any longer.
Shawn was in the Senate building and all were evacuated quickly.
He had to leave his car and go on foot to a friend's house on
the hill.
At 11:00 I
unglued myself from the news and made some phone calls for dad.
It was really hard. It seemed irreverent to be transacting business
on such a solemn day. I trust you were able to get the needed
supplies and food. Are all of your friends back there okay? I
heard the report that all the missionaries are accounted for and
all right. I thought about all the cute young people in your ward
and wondered about their condition, but then they have the Holy
Ghost to help and comfort them. I pray for all the members there
and for all the good people who love the Lord and for those who
might be turned to him through this unspeakable nightmare. I am
grateful for the peace I feel in your behalf. I am grateful for
you, my beacon in a troubled world.
Be strong
and be of good cheer. Good and God will triumph over all.
Write me when
you can. I love you more than all the world.
Mom
What does the
Lord do about war or tragedy? When evil is so raw and rampant in
the world, how can the Lord's purposes ever be served? The records
show that it is sometimes in the darkest hour that people's hearts
are softened. As we have seen already, brotherhood and love have
swelled as we search for some way to help. People who haven't gone
to church or prayed, attend and are on their knees. When the heart
is pliable, what is it ready to receive?
This is when
the Lord needs all of us to volunteer. The army of Helaman will
step forward --and just as President Bush said, terrorists may shake
the foundation of these buildings, but those who oppose this silent
and deadly evil will stand together and we will not fall! Just as
volunteers have rallied together to save lives and rescue the stranded,
so, we of the covenant, will have opportunity to bring the world
His truths, by our faith, prayers and acts of kindness and love
that will raise them from despair and bring them hope and peace.
A letter and
poem from Terry Silva came into my e-mail yesterday before this
nightmare with its hellish hues was thrust upon us.
Brother Silva
wrote that not long ago he had been on a plane talking to a man
who was investigating the gospel. The man was on his way to visit
his brother who was actively discouraging him from becoming baptized.
Later that week when the two talked again by phone, Brother Silva
felt prompted that something was wrong with his new friend, so he
sent him a little encouragement. It came at the right time for the
fragile investigator and later that week he was baptized and wrote
to say, "I feel as though a huge burden has been lifted from me."
In response
Brother Silva said, "I wrote these words, dedicated to all converts
to the restored gospel."
Conversion
Coming home
to a place I've never been before.
Feeling safe
and warm as I walk through the door.
Remembering
truths I hear for the first time,
Learning precept
on precept, and line upon line.
Hearing a
familiar voice I had never before heard.
Gaining new
knowledge with each whispered word.
Casting away
errors taught from my early youth.
Gathering
new light as I remember the Truth.
Shedding tears
of joy, not being able to speak.
Feeling strongest
when submissive, humble and meek.
Walking from
darkness into the beckoning light,
Seeing restored
truth with a spiritual sight.
Sharing a
priceless treasure that no man can buy.
Being led
down a path without knowing why.
Being far
from a loved one, yet never so close,
Connecting
over the miles through the Holy Ghost.
Marrying again
the one true love of my life.
Being sealed
eternally as husband and wife.
Falling deeper
in love growing closer to God
Planting my
family roots in deep gospel sod.
Grieving no
more for dear loved ones who die,
Knowing there
will never be a final goodbye.
Meeting a
stranger who has always been a friend.
Sharing a
bond without a beginning or end.
Speaking new
words prompted by the Spirit to say.
Doing His
work while receiving no earthly pay.
Being filled
with a fire that burns from deep within.
Gaining a
greater faith and forgiveness for sin.
Being cleansed
by water, then purified by fire.
Hearing unheard
verses sung by an unseen choir.
Knowing the
Truth, and that the Truth will make us free.
Opening once
blind eyes that can now clearly see.
Being filled
with Christ's presence in an empty room.
Hearing Him
whisper softly, "Behold, I come soon."
Kneeling at
my Savior's feet, embraced by His hands,
Covenanting
forever to obey His commands.
Embracing
the light, pure as the driven snow.
Believing
before, but now I surely know.
Forsaking
old habits without regret or complaint.
Learning to
run and not be weary, walk and not faint.
And [I add]
to those who have had their root foundations shaken, this fateful
day,
"We're going in there, "If there is one life in there that I can
save, that's all, one life.
Editors'
Note: Submit your missionary stories to our Meridian Missionary
Journal editor, Peggy Proctor at missionaryjournal@meridianmagazine.com
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© 2001 Meridian
Magazine. All Rights Reserved.
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