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9/11
By Scott Harrup | September 11, 2008
We parked our minivans at the condominium a row back from the beach a few miles east of Galveston Island, Texas, that Monday. We were looking forward to our annual reunion with my parents, my two brothers and their families. The rental cottage had five bedrooms, and we would need them—as well as the couch in the central living room.
Dad and Mom unpacked and headed back toward the island to buy a week’s worth of groceries for eight adults and nine grandchildren. By the time they took the ferry, bought supplies and returned on another ferry, it was quite late.
I helped Dad haul sack after sack of food up the stairs and joked, “Dad, we’ve got enough food, if World War III breaks out tomorrow we can just hole up here at the beach.”
The next morning that remark was no longer funny. Our vacation turned to a sort of wake, as hours at the beach were traded for hours at the TV to follow the rescue attempts at Ground Zero, the memorial service at the National Cathedral, and the emerging outline of a plot that targeted thousands of innocent civilians.
But World War III, it was not. In the intervening seven years our nation has enjoyed virtually uninterrupted peace within our borders. There have been crises, yes, but our assailants have been the expected forces of nature rather than the insane machinations of twisted minds.
We have innumerable men and women in our Armed Forces, and their families, to thank for that. While my family has gathered for holidays and vacations these seven years, so many other families have desperately prayed for the safety of loved ones in distant lands defending this one.
In one sense, I look back with a twinge of guilt that I was on vacation the week of 9/11. But then I stop and realize that’s part of the miracle of this country. Evil thought it could bring us to our knees. Faith and bravery and unceasing resolve meant a day at the beach was still an option.
Topics: History, Family Life |
