(This is a repost of a blog that I wrote one year ago today.)
On
September 11, 2001, I was in school, having been the principal at St.
Isaac Jogues for the past four years. My librarian came into my office
and mentioned that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I
assumed it was a small plane, and thought, "How awful. I wonder how they
got so far off course?"
Not two minutes later, my
husband called from Selfridge (where he was the Operations Support Group
Commander at the time) and said, "Mary, this is big. That was an
airline jet that crashed into the World Trade Center, and we don't think
it was an accident. Turn on the news."
We had a
pastoral staff meeting scheduled for that morning, and I walked over the
parish offices where we watched the news in horror. We were watching,
together, as they broke in with the news that a third plane had crashed,
and I knew from the footage we were watching that it WASN'T New York
City. I said, "I have to be back over in school." And I left the staff
meeting immediately.
The rest of that morning is a
horrible blur. I couldn't DO anything but walk the halls of the
building, checking in on students and staff. We had the teachers turn
off the televisions and directed them to just keep teaching and keep as
much information from the children as possible. I comforted one teacher
who had a son in the military Special Forces, and worried about my
brother. I knew Tom had just been reassigned to the Pentagon and was, in
fact, scheduled to arrive in Washington DC that very day. (we learned
several hours later that he was still en route when the crash occurred).
My
clearest memory of that morning, when we heard the news about the plane
crash in Pennsylvania, was that no crisis plan in the world could
prepare me for dealing with something like this. (Coincidentally, we had
just completed work on our school's crisis plan). We kept the students
in the building at lunchtime, not sure if another tragedy wouldn't
occur, again, even closer to home. Many parents called school that
morning, but actually most students stayed in school for the entire day.
Like everyone else in America, my life changed,
fundamentally, ten years ago today. My husband's work with the Michigan
Air National Guard changed from a back up, support force, to a full,
active, constantly deploying wing. Dave finished his career with the
military in 2008, retiring as the Wing Vice Commander. During those
seven years he faced, over and over again, the reality of directing
those under him into harm's way. He himself flew a plane into
Afghanistan that took bullets to the tail. I don't think any of us will
ever again feel as safe and secure as we did on September 10, 2001,
knowing on that day that the continental United States had never been
attacked by such a threat.
From the vantage point of
today, looking back ten years, it's more clear to me than ever that the
ONLY thing that makes any sense at all is my faith in God. How else can
you understand such a horror? Our human perspective doesn't let us make
any sense of such irrational hatred. Only a God who loves us,
unconditionally, and grieves with us at such terror, can help us make
decisions for the future based on love. Msgr. Halfpenny reminds me
frequently to "speak the truth in love." That's the only crisis plan
that can last.