GOT HIM. 9/11---do you remember?

GOT HIM.  9/11—do you remember?

Yes, I read when I am on the cardio machines at the gym . . . and in addition to studying Scripture and various commentaries, I read books on the power of prayer, and other inspirational Christian writings.  Interestingly enough, on the morning after Osama bin Laden’s demise, this was where I found myself today:  “I was an office worker assigned to the Tunnels, Bridges, and Terminals Department of the Port Authority of New York.  On the morning of September 11, I got to work a little after 8 a.m., and rode the elevator up to the sixty-fourth floor of the north tower of the World Trade Center, where I had worked for the last nine months.  Most of the staff wasn’t in yet.  I was making small talk with a coworker when it happened.  Suddenly the building began to shake.  What was that!  An earthquake in lower Manhattan?  I had no idea that American Airlines Flight 11 had just slammed into the building.  When I looked out the window to see what was going on, I could see bits of paper and debris floating down from above. 

  “A coworker shouted that a plane had hit the building.  I pictured a little private plane, not a jetliner.  Because I didn’t think we were in any real danger, I was surprised to see people grabbing their stuff and heading for the elevator.

  “One man had already called the Port Authority police downstairs, who assured us things were okay.  We should stay put and not leave.  I decided to call Roger [fiance] to tell him I was coming out.  He promised to meet me at Century 21, a clothing store across the street.  …Someone then reported smoke on the stairs.

  “Then suddenly the building began swaying and rocking.  I couldn’t believe it.  A second plane had hit the south tower!  ‘Oh my God,’ I said, ‘the building is going down!’ 

  “Then we heard another huge noise.  The building was swaying and shaking again.  This time, I was sure we were all going to die.  I didn’t know that the south tower had just collapsed and that it would only be a matter of minutes before the north tower would go down as well.  As soon as things settled, Pasquale and another man removed the tape on the lobby doors and we headed down stairway B . . .  We kept counting the stairs . . . 63, 62, 60 . . . 50, 49, 48 . . .

  “By the thirteenth floor I couldn’t take it anymore.  As I leaned over to remove my shoes, the whole place just went boom!  Everything went completely black.  It felt as though something had just hit me in the chest.  I fell back toward the wall, and then I fell toward the floor.  Everything was crumbling around us.  It seemed like a dream.  I told myself it was.  I tried to get up but something hit me and I fell straight to the floor again.  By now it was pitch black.  I couldn’t see a thing.  My eyes and mouth were filled with grit and dust.  One hundred ten floors were coming down around us.  I knew I was being buried alive.  The noise was deafening.

  “Finally things got quiet, really quiet.  I couldn’t believe I was still breathing—lying on my right side, with my right leg pinned beneath something.  I tried moving my head, but my hair, done up in cornrows, was pinned under the concrete.

  “I knew then I was going to die.  Nobody was going to find me under all the steel and concrete. 

  “There in the dark, my mind started racing.  I thought of my children, my family, and my fiancé, Roger, who was waiting outside for me.  More than anything, I worried about what would happen to me after I died.  I didn’t know how to ask for forgiveness. I was sure I was going to hell.

  “I was in and out of consciousness.  Every time I woke up, I tried removing the rubble with my left hand, the only part of me that could still move freely.  But there was too much.  My head was starting to swell, and I wanted so badly to get it free of the concrete, pushing forward, and then backward, but the space was too small.  That’s when I started to pray.  ‘God, I can’t take this pain.  Help me get my head free of the concrete.’  Then I made one hard pull, yanking upwards.  I could feel the cornrows ripping from my scalp.  My head was bleeding, but at least it was free.

  “As I explored with my free hand, I realized I was trapped under a stairwell.  By then my right foot had started to swell, and I could feel iron and steel sticking into my side.  I kept trying to remove the rubble, but it was too heavy and hard.  Everything was so hard. 

  “When I woke again I told myself I had to do something.  But what could I do?  ‘God, you’ve got to help me!’  I prayed.  ‘You’ve got to show me a sign, show me a miracle, give me a second chance.  Please save my life!’  I fell asleep praying the words . . .

  “The next day I heard a beep-beep sound like a truck backing up.  I called for help, but there was no response.  I could hear people talking on a walkie-talkie, so I called out again and again.  Nothing!  Finally someone hollered back: ‘Hello, is somebody there?’  I cried, ‘Yes, my name is Genelle … Can you see my hand?’ I yelled, nearly out of strength.  No, they saw nothing … I lost consciousness.

  “When I woke, I could hear that my would-be rescuers were above me.  ‘Please, God, show me a miracle now! Please help me!

Well, God did hear Genelle’s prayer—he did send her a miracle, and she was the last person pulled out of the rubble alive on 9/11.  She knew who had saved her, as she said, “God saved me and he saved me for a reason.  He heard my prayer and helped me to survive the worst kind of trouble so that I can live for him today and tell other people about what he’s done in my life.”  From Breakthrough Prayer, Jim Cymbala

Indeed, the Lord our God is near to his children whenever we pray to him.

No grand formula, just the heartfelt cry of one lone woman, uttered in a desperate prayer.  And the memory of one of the most difficult times in American history.

Christine

podcast: