I was three months pregnant with Christian and Hubs was in Washington (state).
I was having a lot of early pregnancy pain, and me being the whiny-baby-sissy-face that I am, went into work late that morning. I had spent the night at my brother and sil's house, not wanting to be alone with Hubs gone.
It was my habit to watch Good Morning America, since I had just quit my job anchoring the morning news at the local ABC affiliate, and GMA always followed my local news.
I remember eating breakfast in their dining room, and watching the smoke from the first plane rising from the tower. I called out to my brother and sil to tell them something had happened at the World Trade Center, but it was all speculation at that point. Then the next plane flew across the sky. I watched, still not really believing what I was seeing, until both towers fell.
It was so eerie to me that day, that people were still going to the grocery store and the mall, still running errands, still going to work, still going to school. It felt like life should have stopped that day, so that we could be with those trapped in a living hell, if only in spirit. It felt like we should have spent that day on our knees, interceding for survivors and families of those lost.
I know God wasn't surprised on 9/11. I know He didn't have to go to "Plan B."
I don't know why some were spared while others perished. I doubt any of us will ever know or understand while on this side of eternity.
I do know that He has a plan for us, and that plan is to prosper us and not to harm us; plans to give us a hope and a future, according to Jeremiah 29:11.
I'm sure every American remembers where they were and what they were doing that day. Just like my parents remember where they were when Elvis, JFK and John Lennon died.
I think it's something that will stick with us for the rest of our lives.
And I think it should.