Miracles After September 11

Almost every CD I own has a vivid memory associated with it. I can remember the first time I played the CD, or maybe I was on a particularly memorable trip with that music, a date with a girl. There’s a connection with all kinds of music. Music has always had a deep, sentimental connection for me and listening to music takes me back to whatever era I connect with it.

I was listening to Linford Detweiler’s _Grey Ghost Stories_ when someone told me the first plane had collided with the World Trade Center tower.

Now, I’ve lived in Atlanta almost my entire life. Here in the South, New York seems like it might as well be a different country (some Southerners still believe it’s a different country.) I don’t have any personal connections with anyone living in New York City, but at that moment, I felt a deep, personal ache. I was stunned and really didn’t know how to react. I could only feel overwhelming sorrow, great loss, and an incredible helplessness.

In the next days, I really didn’t know what to do. I helped out however I could financially, but it seemed like such a small effort for such a great loss. My sorrow was such a drop in an ocean of hurt that affected those who lost loved ones. The day after that awful day, I went to church and prayed. We sang “America The Beautiful”, “God Bless America”, and “It Is Well” and those songs, that music, began to blunt the sadness.

During the next few days, I began to associate the whimsical piano and guitar pieces from _Grey Ghost Stories_ not with the awful disaster, but with the days afterward when everyone called their family and let them know they loved them. I remembered how people were just a little nicer to each other and instead of going through the motions, made an effort to help those who lost so much. Slowly, the CD became one that filled me with memories a peace. The calm after the storm. It’s strange, but every time I listen to the CD now, I can’t help but smile just a little.

During the next few weeks, we went to a couple of concerts. We sang praise songs to God. There was nothing else to do, but acknowledge His Sovereignty. Even King Solomon said “a sad face is good for the heart” and Job said ,”Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”. And so we sang, and music again was an undercurrent in my life in the days of September and into October of 2001.

About a month later, we got to see U2 in concert. Every song, “Sunday, Bloody Sunday”, “Kite”, “New York”, had extra meaning and carved it’s way straight to your soul. But when the stage turned red like a sunrise and Bono began to recite the 116th Psalm, and the opening organ chords of “Where The Streets Have No Name” played, my emotion meter pegged. I totally lost it. I was overwhelmed with a powerful feeling that someday, somehow, everything _was_ going to okay and whenever that day would be, it sure enough was coming. This must be what some people call a miracle.