Out of the Ashes

It is a book title about a poverty stricken boy, a song about someone experiencing dark times and it is the image that is still with me from the most terrifying time I have lived through. In every case once the air clears and the emotions are resolved there is a gravity that sets in.
I don't know if you ever forget something that has caused deep wounds, even if they have scarred over. They are always weak spots, places that cause you recurring moments of sorrow, opening at the slightest reminder. Especially true when you can not fully explain them, understand them or resolve them.
For me it is the memory of the attacks in 2001. I think about those who died and their families in the attacks of 9/11. Even greater to some degree are those that watched, saw it live, were surrounded by lives abruptly ended and perhaps who were momentarily blinded by the wall of ashes pouring through the city. Fear, confusion, agony.
We were on our first trip to Disneyland with our son who had just turned 5. We enjoyed the entire day on the 10th from open to close. I recall we actually stood and watched the closing ceremony with the guard folding the flag. We had our hands on our hearts, sang the Star Spangled Banner and saw the colors retreat out of the park. And then we slept.
Upon waking I turned on the television to see a terrible action movie about terrorists. I changed the channel to see that the movie was indeed live, and that it was in our country. I was awake to see the second plane hit, and the graphic scenes that followed are still clear and detailed as if it had just happened. Rich and I sat glued to the news. What do we do? Where do we go? Are we safe?
Soon we would learn the city of Los Angeles was locked down and businesses closed. We were stuck. We went to the corner store to buy whatever food we could find. 7-11 is no gourmet shop but we made do. No one was talking. There was a heaviness in the air. There was sorrow on the faces, and perhaps some fear.
When morning came, four planes had gone down, two buildings had collapsed and 3000 people had died. And we could not explain, understand or resolve it. Still today we are not resolved. We went to California Adventure as we had already paid for the trip and were still unable to leave LA. For the first time in its' history they searched all bags. For the first time since flight began there was not a single plane overhead. For the first time in the happiest place on earth there was very little frivolity. Oh, Cody had a great time, he was five. He would have had a great time in a box! But the adults, there was a strange sorrow and weight each carried. What does this mean? Where will it go? Will there be more? Will it be here? No resolution. We were really still in the ashes.
Today, ten years later, we understand more, and we have given a name to the terror. We have eliminated some of the architects. Yet we are still not confident. We can see, we can explain some elements of the horror and we are learning that we may never be free from this type of radicalism.
It is one of those events that when thought of in passing or with a modicum of reflection we can see some positive outcomes. But when we see the pictures, hear the sounds, listen to the phone calls and tapes it is as if the wound has been opened. That weak spot is challenged.
Fortunately, while we may never understand the evil in this world we have a promise of protection and a future to a world that will be free of sadness, pain and sorrow. When I am thinking of these things, I have to take my thoughts captive and look at the promise of future joy and eternal safety. In the interim, I will continue to pray for the injured, lost, grieving and enemies. I will remind myself that no matter how big the threat, God is bigger still! Jude 24-25