Where Were You?

I’ll never forget that day five years ago when our country was attacked. As I watched the events taking place on TV I almost didn’t believe it. Or I didn’t want to. I was so scared, even though I was so far away. And my heart broke for the thousands of scared looks on the faces I saw on the citizens of NYC as I watched it happen live. All I could do was pray.

I was living in my cute apartment on first south in SLC. I was taking my morning shower as usual and my roommate Ashley came knocking on the door. She told me I had to hurry and come see what was on TV. I hurried and threw on a robe and came out and watched as the second plane hit the World Trade Center. I asked her if it was a joke or something, she said no. We were both glued to the TV. I had flown in from San Diego the night before and my mom called to make sure I was home safe. All air travel had stopped. Ashley quickly left to be with her family in Spanish Fork. I was all alone. I watched the TV and the towers fall for about 2 hours then decided I better go to work. I went in and it was a very somber mood. We all gathered around TV’s at work and just couldn’t believe what was happening.

At the end of the day I again returned to my empty apartment. I felt alone and scared, and I rarely ever felt that. I had been on my own for so long, being alone didn’t bother me. But that day it did. I decided to go to the temple. I needed comfort and I needed to feel the presence of someone, and since my family was far away, I thought I’d turn to my Heavenly Father. I drove down to temple square and things were quiet. The gates to the temple entrance were locked.

I found some sister missionaries and asked them if the temple was open, and they told me it had been closed so all the workers could go home and be with their families. Now I felt even more alone and sad. My family was so far away and I didn’t even have a roommate to keep me company. I had only lived in SLC for a few months and hadn’t really made to many friends.

I think the sisters could sense my desperation for some company and told me that the Mormon Tabernacle Choir was performing for a convention that was in town, but that the concert had been turned into a memorial service and President Hinckley was speaking. They had one extra ticket and gave it to me. I guess I wasn’t alone after all. My amazing Father in Heaven was looking out for me that day and sent me somewhere I could find peace and comfort.

It was my first time listening to the choir live. It was amazing, heartfelt, emotional, and inspiring. The entire First Presidency addressed the audience and it was so comforting. I was desperate to hear from one of my leaders, anyone, the president of the country or the president of the church. I just wanted someone to say it was ok. I was so thankful I got to hear the prophet speak that night. No one in that room could deny the spirit of God was present, and it was present very powerfully. Everyone was comforted. Especially me.

I was able to go home and sleep well, feeling the peace and comfort of a loving Father. I have never forgotten how I felt that day, scared to death, but so proud to be an American. I loved the way it brought out the best of us all. I loved how patriotic everyone was, how caring and concerned for our fellow citizens who were closer to the tragic events than we were. I’ll never forget it. And I’m so thankful to those who lost their lives trying to save innocent lives.

A month later I was in NYC visiting a friend. I’ll never forget coming out of the subway into Grand Central Station. Temporary air-walls filled the middle of the floor with thousands of posters of missing family members. I just cried as I looked at them. As we went outside we were surrounded on every wall and street corner with posters, candle light vigils, flowers, and memorabilia.

We were in the Rockefeller Center when we were quickly evacuated due to an anthrax scare. Apparently some was found in a letter sent to a prominent news broadcaster. Times Square was closed because a box was left and unclaimed. Every where we went people were jittery and cautious of everything. At St. Patrick’s Cathedral the crowds poured in to pray and pay tribute. At ground zero, we still couldn’t get too close because of the smoke and asbestos in the air. I’ll never forget what I saw there that day. The destruction was unreal. I had seen it on TV just one month earlier and now I was seeing it in person.

Late that night we stood at the edge of the water on the Brooklyn Heights promenade and just stared at the city skyline, part of it missing. Candles lined the walkway and people were kneeling in prayer, or meditating, or just coming to pay tribute in their own special way. I’ll never forget it. And I can’t imagine what it must have been like to be there that terrifying day.

Where were you?