What were you doing on 9-11-01?

Five years ago, we were living way out in the country, on a dirt road. Since I didn’t have the TV on that morning, I left the house to drop off my oldest daughter at preschool without knowing anything had happened.

My next stop was at a church, where my kindergarten-aged son joined in with our homeschool chorus. They were practicing for an upcoming musical. When I dropped him off at the door, the director, Julie, looked worried.

“I guess we’ll still have our chorus practice,” she said.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked her.

“Well, when you get back in the car, turn your radio on,” she told me. “A plane just struck the World Trade Center.”

My stomach dropped. I didn’t know what she meant — but I was too embarrassed to ask questions because I thought I should know more.

I listened to the radio on the way home, with my one-year-old babbling happily in the backseat. I couldn’t believe it. The other plane had struck by then, and the radio announcer said another plane had crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. I felt for sure we were under attack, and I was scared to death.

My husband called as soon as I got home, and he said it was all over the news. I turned the TV on and joined the rest of the nation in shock, afraid to step away from the screen.

Later in the morning, the Lord put an old friend on my heart, and I wondered what she’d been up to lately. The urge to talk to her was so strong that I called her up. What she told me was even more devastating than what I kept seeing over and over on TV.

We talked briefly about the tragic news in New York, then I asked how she was doing.

“Not too well,” she told me. Her voice began to waver. “I found out my babysitter’s 14-year-old son was molesting my four-year-old daughter.” We both started to cry on the phone. Honestly, that news affected me more than anything on TV.

I told her how sorry I was, then she shared with me a few details of how they found out and what they’d had to go through — taking their little girl to the hospital for tests, getting a court order, the complete devastation and anger her family felt. They had trusted this family who ran an in-home daycare service. These were church-going people, and it came as a shock to everyone.

My heart was heavy all day; as I watched images of the two planes crashing over and over again, and the Twin Towers crumbling, I also thought of that little four-year-old girl whose childhood innocence had been destroyed.

Well, I’ve never written about that before — but in the five years following that day, I find that I don’t trust any teenage boys around my children. (Sorry, no offense, if you have teen boys!) I really have a hard time trusting ANYone around my kids. Thankfully, I can be home most of the time, and we also live near both sets of grandparents.

Anyway, that’s how 9-11-01 affected me personally … and profoundly.

We stayed glued to the TV for several days, at first praying there would be survivors, and then praying for the victims’ families. We read and listened to the many inspirational stories of heroes, looking for a glimmer of hope amidst all the terror. As our country united against evil, we bowed together asking God for His mercy and peace.

Shannon at Rocks in My Dryer is compiling blogger stories about 9-11, and Trish Berg’s column at CBN.com, The Day When Terror Met Love, includes tips on how parents can teach their children about this tragedy.