Where I Was on September 11

It’s so hard to believe it has been 25 years. For those of us who are old enough to remember September 11, 2001, I imagine most can still tell you exactly where we were when we first heard that something was happening. I certainly can.

At the time, I was homeschooling our daughter and a nephew, who were 9 and 11 years old. We had just started our new school year the week before, and that Tuesday morning we were in our classroom working through the day’s lessons.

Then the phone rang. It was my mama. I stepped out of the classroom and into the living room, so I could talk without disturbing the kids. She told me an airplane had hit one of the Twin Towers in New York City and that some people were saying it might have been an act of terror.

I was concerned, of course, but I remember thinking Mama might be getting a little ahead of herself. Surely there had been some terrible accident. I told her I would turn on the television and keep an eye on what was happening.

It didn’t take long to realize Mama wasn’t overreacting. As I watched the live coverage and saw the second airplane hit the other tower, everything changed.

Like millions of other Americans that morning, I was glued to the television, trying to make sense of something that simply didn’t make sense, and just down the hall, the children were still working on their schoolwork. They had no idea.

I remember looking toward that classroom and wondering, How in the world am I going to explain this to them without frightening them? Especially when I was frightened myself.

There were no smartphones in our hands. No group texts lighting up every few seconds. For us, information and connection came through the television and a few phone calls on our house phone.

Somewhere in those calls, a few people from our church decided we should meet at the church. So we did. The funny thing is, none of us had a key. We couldn’t even get inside the building.

So there we were, gathered in the church parking lot, basically tailgating. We stood around outside, talking, praying, and fellowshipping with one another. There wasn’t a program. There wasn’t a plan. Nobody had answers. We just needed to be together. That is one of the things I remember most clearly about September 11.

Of course, I remember the images on television. I remember the fear and the terrible realization of what had happened. But I also remember people reaching for one another. Maybe that’s worth remembering 25 years later.

When life suddenly changes, when something happens that frightens us or leaves us without words, our instinct can be to pull inward. But so often, God’s comfort comes through the people He has placed around us.

A phone call. A hug. A prayer. Or sometimes just standing together in a church parking lot because nobody has the key.

The Bible tells us, “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:11

Twenty-five years later, our world can still feel frightening and uncertain. The circumstances are different, but our need for one another hasn’t changed. We don’t always need to know what to say. We don’t have to have answers or be able to fix what’s wrong. Sometimes the most important thing we can do is simply show up.

On this anniversary of September 11, I’m remembering the lives that were lost, the families whose lives changed forever, and the first responders and ordinary people who ran toward others when every instinct must have told them to run away.

And I’m remembering a little group of church friends standing together in a parking lot in North Carolina, trying to process the unthinkable.

We couldn’t change what had happened. We couldn’t make the fear disappear. But for a little while, none of us had to carry it alone. We just needed to be together. And maybe, sometimes, that’s exactly how God helps us through the hardest of times.

“For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” Matthew 18:20

Sept 11, 2026 Morning Brew