September 11, 2001
Ten years ago on September 11, I was quietly doing my laundry early in the morning at the MTC. We started to hear rumblings of the attacks but very little was known of what was going on. My companion and I asked one of the maintenance guys what had happened and he talked to us for a few shorts moments and told us that the two towers had fallen and that there could be as many as 30,000 plus dead. My companion was allowed to go to the mall that day to buy new shoes so he saw some footage on TV in a few stores and shared what he saw when he got back from the shopping trip. There was utter silence as a girl was called out of a large group meeting, followed by chattering that her dad was at the pentagon. There was an announcement that all the missionaries that had left for the airport that morning would be coming back to the MTC for the night. I don't remember much more than that. I remember knowing that something huge had happened and I know that had I been anywhere else in my life I would have been glued to the news coverage of the unfolding events. We were all a little frustrated that nobody would talk about it and tell us what happened and what was going on in the world around us. We asked teachers, but I assume they had been instructed not to talk about it, so the topic was deflected. The mission president came over the loud speaker that evening and read a few passages out of the scriptures, all speaking around the same theme that America would not falter. That was the end of that.
I have no recollection of the timeline, but I believe it was a few days later when we had finally pushed on the topic enough, we got one teacher to explain to us what had happened that day. He drew a few pictures on the chalkboard, probably spent a half hour or so explaining things and we talked for a minute about it. By that time news articles had started to trickle in through the mail system so we started to see some of the images of that dreadfull day. It was probably around that same time that the Church had a special fireside/memorial that we watched as a whole MTC. I saw some of the same images again and began to kind of understand what September 11th was.
Very little was discussed or seen after that.
I left the country for Belgium three weeks later at the height of security. We didn't have any issues with traveling, but upon arriving in Belgium, it was clear that whatever had happened the previous month, it had changed the world completely, forever. Some of our first meetings after arriving at the mission office were talking about security and the measures the mission had taken to keep its members safe. My first area of assignment was Strasbourg, a big city in the North East of France. It was like many French cities, in that it had a large population of Muslim people. My first apartment happened to be right in the middle of one of "their" neighborhoods. So, I never got to sleep in that apartment. Every night, either us or the other Elders in that city would have to go meet the Sister missionaries at their last appointment and accompany them to their apartment. Then we would return to our apartment, get our pajamas and head to the other Elders apartment a few blocks down the road. We traded off sleeping on the floor and a couch in their apartment. In the morning we would walk back to our apartment in our pajamas and get ready there for the day. Several times on the way to church or various other appointments, we would pass by cars that were completely burned and blown up. Every time we passed by "them" (we had a special term for them so they could not understand it) they would yell the worst swear words at us or throw things in our direction or threaten us. There were many neighborhoods that we were not allowed to go in even in the daylight. One Elders hair was lit on fire by one of "them" in a bus, many Elders had been chased, harrased and threatened by "them." It was chaotic and uneasy times to be an American. I didn't really understand why.
A few months and a few cities down the road, the tension started to build again. This time I was in a small city in the North of France, with very few muslim inhabitants. President Bush declared war on Iraq and the chaos that had died down a little kicked in to high gear once again. We recieved death threats on our phone message machines, we were back to escorting people home at night, not being out after dark. One night we got a call from the Elder of the neighboring city telling us that they had been followed by a man for a long time before they decided to take a detour to the police station. The police escorted them home and when they arrived at their apartment building the guy that had followed them was inside their building waiting in front of their apartment door for them. We made the hour drive to pick them up and they were forced to hide out in our apartment for the next week until we felt it was safe for them to return to their apartment. It is all people wanted to talk about. We weren't like by the Muslims and we weren't really like by the French either. Everyone wanted to pick a fight with the missionaries, even if they weren't American.
By the time I got home from my mission, September 11th was in the past and only the remnants of it and the subsequent wars were televised and discussed. Each year there was a celebration/memorial. I visited ground zero a few times while in NYC. I occasionally read some articles about the events of September 11th. You see, I have always felt this huge lack of understanding and knowledge. I felt as if I had been in a bomb shelter, protected from everything, and missed one of the most compelling, influential, and memorable events that will happen in my lifetime. I missed it. And yet I felt all the effects of it, but never understood why the effects even existed.
This year marked the ten year anniversary of the attacks on the World Trade Center, Pentagon and the crash in the Pennsylvania field. So what did I do? I read articles every chance I got to get a better glimpse of what I had missed. They were both troubling and inspiring. I watched every program I could find that discussed the attacks. Sunday, September 11, 2011, I sat in front of my TV from 12:30pm until 10:30pm and I watched 10 hours of 9/11 coverage. Never before seen (by me) footage of the attacks. Stories of survival. Stories of anger and hatred. Stories of freedom and liberation. Stories of lives ten years later that are still wounded by the tragic events but not paralyzed by them. I could not believe my eyes. I could not believe my ears. And now I feel like I can fully understand the feelings and the effects that were caused when America was attacked that day. I know that some may think it is awful to want to relive that day, but I just wanted to live it for the first time. I can imagine how awful it must have been to live it in the moment and have so many unknowns. It was extremely inspiring to look at it from ten years later because time has eliminated most of those unknowns, and out of the tragedy has come strength and faith and courage.
