It's impossible to forget what a beautiful day it was ten years ago when the terrorists attacked. I was already at work at the church office, working on the Sunday bulletin, when the minister walked in and mentioned that a plane had just struck the World Trade Center. We both surmised it was a small place like the one that had hit the Empire State Building years ago, but he wanted to make sure so he walked back to his house next door to see what else was going to unfold. Of course he came back in short order with the news that another plane had struck and the news was buzzing with words like "terrorism" and "war". It was shocking to say the least, and my mind immediately went to my children and where they all were. One was living in Pennsylvania, another attending college, the others were here in East Hampton and I worried about them all. When disaster strikes we think first about the people we love.
Within the hour we had gone in to full "ministry" mode (this was the church, after al!) and had opened the church doors wide for anyone who wanted to come pray. The minister was busy on the phone with the other clericus, planning a service for that evening to provide a place for the community to gather in their grief. It was a quickly thrown-together affair and he asked if I could sing something, which of course I agreed to, imagining there would be twenty or thirty people there. After all, how would anyone even know about it? I left work at 1:00 and went about my day, listening to the television when I could, picking up my son at school and taking him to a doctor's appointment. Life was going on as though nothing had happened, but there was a pall over the world. It was palpable - a sadness and a fear of the unknown.
When my husband got home from work we all piled in the car and headed to Main Street to attend the church service. We were shocked to see people steaming into the church from every direction. There were families, singles, couples, many holding hands and rushing as though it was important to reach the safely of the sanctuary. The following hour was one of the most profound of my life as people of all faiths and backgrounds sang, prayed, and wept together. The Rabbi spoke, the Town Supervisor spoke, the Mayor spoke, and we all reached out to our common God for help in our time of need.
I'll never forget it and I'm sure no one else who attended will either. As we left the church we were given candles to light and leave on the front steps. The stone entrance was bathed in light as each candle burned to the granite, leaving behind the wax remnants in hardened puddles. The world had changed and so had we. It was a day to remember for sure.
1 comment:
Hi, Barbara - my memories of that day are, of course, the same as your's. I'll never forget the church steps with all the candles at twilight. The candles are a wonderful story. Somebody went to the attic and got all the Advent candles from last year. You scrounged all that you could find in the church kitchen and I got all there were next door. The rabbi brought every sabbath candle he could find in the Jewish Center. The next day an employee at the Town Supervisor's office bought every sabbath candle on the shelves at all the local grocery stores. I never knew who paid for them - she did, I guess.
The church was the church that
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