The phone rang. It was my husband, from his office in the city. Without preamble he asked, "Do you have the news on?"
"What? No, why?"
"Someone crashed a plane into one of the Twin Towers."
"You are kidding!" I knew he wasn't, but I was having trouble wrapping my mind around it. I turned on the TV just in time to see the second plane crash. I irrationally thought of Tom Clancy's book and was sure that the Capital Building and the White House were smoking ruins. I don't remember hanging up with my husband. If fact, the next thing I really remember was coming to myself tears streaming down my cheeks holding my son as close as I could. I turned from the horror on the TV and stood and stared back out into that incomparably beautiful morning and prayed for the nation, the President, most of all those souls in New York and thier family.
A song of ascents.1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
6 the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
7 The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
8 the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.