Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?
Out in the yard with your wife and children
Or working on some stage in LA
Did you stand there in shock at the sight of
That black smoke rising against that blue sky
Did you shout out in anger
In fear for your neighbor
Or did you just sit down and cry
Did you weep for the children
Who lost their dear loved ones
And pray for the ones who don't know
Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble
And sob for the ones left below
Did you burst out in pride
For the red white and blue
The heroes who died just doing what they do
Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer
And look at yourself to what really matters
I'm just a singer of simple songs
I'm not a real political man
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith, hope, and love are some good things He gave us
And the greatest is love.
Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)- Alan Jackson
I'm in a little cabin in the North Georgia mountains this September 11th, but I remember where I was on this day ten years ago. I don't really recall the big details--those have simply faded from memory. It's the small, seemingly insignificant things that have lingered and remained.
I remember I was about ten years old and doing schoolwork in my bedroom when the phone rang. My grandparents next door were calling, telling us to turn on our TV.
I remember the heavy weight of dread that settled in my stomach as I watched those images of the planes crashing into those towers.
I remember leaning on the chair beside the television set, my mouth open as those scenes were set to replay. Over and over.
I remember the horror as we witnessed clips of firefighters, policemen, and other public workers dashing into those burning buildings.
I remember the fear. I was afraid for months that Osama Bin Laden would somehow find his way to our house.
I remember the chills that ran up and down my arms as I watched Republicans and Democrats put aside their political differences for a short time to join hands and sing "God Bless America."
I remember praying.
We should never forget those men and women from that day. And even though ten years have passed, our prayer should still be that God would please bless America.
Where were you on this day ten years ago?
4 thoughts:
I was 10 and still in public school. That day, nearly everyone's parents came and checked them out early or ate lunch with them. My mom came and ate lunch with me, and I remember her talking in a low voice with the other parents. I kept asking what was wrong, and finally she told me that planes had crashed into buildings in New York.
I didn't realize the seriousness of the situation until I got home and saw footage on TV. I remember sitting at the top of my stairs and writing in my journal (which had a kitten on the front) something like, "Terrorists crashed planes into the World Trade Center buildings today. I think we're going to war, and I'm scared." I remember thinking that war would be here, in our land, not far away in another country.
~Kristin
I was about five years old. I don't remember much of it, but I remember Mommy vacuuming in front of the TV. I don't think it affected me much, since I was so young.
We were canning peaches as a family that beautiful September day. My daddy was at work, mom was eight months pregnant with my little sister, my sister was 5, my brother 2, and I was only 6. I can remember the look on Mom's face when daddy called and told her to turn on the radio. We turned on the radio until that batch of peaches were finished. I didn't understand what had happened until we went downstairs and turned on the old tv. I can remember watching the clip over and over while the sinking realization came over me. It seemed so unreal that anyone would do that. It scared me because we had often gone to NYC for field trips and there was a plane that crashed in a field in PA--my state! It is a day that I won't ever forget.
I was in my crib. End of story.
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