Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: When Morning Dawns

As I wrote recently in my newspaper column, the day of September 11, 2001 and the days following were a particularly lonely, isolated time for me. Having moved from Massachusetts to Nebraska just two months prior, I still didn’t know a soul in Lincoln. I had a colicky newborn, a husband who went off to work at his new job every day, and no friend or loved one within 1,500 miles.

What I didn’t mention in the newspaper article was that I also didn’t have a church…or God.

Today as Pastor Greg remembered that tragic day ten years ago, he talked about how the members of Southwood came together for an evening prayer service. He mentioned the hymns they sang that night, the tears and hugs exchanged, the prayers, and above all, the hope and faith – the prevailing understanding that God was present and that he was good.

As we filed out of church this morning I whispered to Brad, “I can’t believe we didn’t even belong to Southwood then.” He nodded, his hand on my shoulder as we wove through the crowd. “I don’t know how I survived that day without God,” I added.

I remember so much about that day: watching the Today show and CNN for hours. Calling my parents just to hear their voices. Holding my newborn as he wailed. Leaving frantic messages on my husband’s voicemail at work. Walking through the park in a daze that evening, wondering if life would ever be the same again.

I know for sure that didn’t pray that day. Not once. It never occurred to me to pray – I hadn’t prayed for nearly 20 years. I felt numb, empty, afraid. I felt only hopelessness and fear in the face of such overwhelming tragedy. An aching, gnawing hole gaped wide open, and nothing came close to filling it.

I’d like to say that September 11, 2001 was the day my life was transformed – that I accepted God, prayed fervently and hope and faith were restored. That would make a great story, wouldn’t it? But that’s not my story. Instead, I kept God distant and fought despair on my own. It would be another five years before I tentatively dipped a toe into faith.

Today as I stood in the sanctuary and prayed for the world and the victims and families affected by September 11, I felt gratitude and hope. Sad, yes; aching in remembering, yes – but filled with peace in the knowledge that God is a refuge, a strength, a hope.

Today I knew in my heart that God is ever-present when morning dawns.

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns.” (Psalm 46:1-5)

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