Thursday, September 8, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
9/11/11
My last flight as a UAL Flight Attendant was August 26, 2001. I was finally at peace with being on the job. I had been wrestling with leaving, as the job was emotionally and physically tiring. But for the last two years of my career, I had the opportunity to fly from NYC to San Francisco/ Los Angeles twice a week. That was a treat! 5 hours there and 4 hours back. 24 hour layovers on the west coast. Working 767 aircraft in the First Class Cabin. I had the chance to serve celebrities and high level executives. The most harrowing experience I had was an emergency landing in Denver that I helped execute as the first flight attendant.
I had a two week vacation after that date. The original plan was to go to Italy with a Flight Attendant friend. But our plans changed and I ended up in my hometown of Southfield, Michigan. Actually, by this time I considered NYC my hometown. I still do. NYC, a city that I swore I never would consider moving to. A place that I have grown to love like no other. As much as I have fallen in love with places abroad, NYC still has a huge pull on my heart.
I remember my father waking me up on Tuesday, September 11 at around 9am or so. He says a plane crashed into one of the skyscrapers. I figured it was a small commuter plane or helicopter. But when I turned on the television my heart sank at the sight! I saw a plane that was clearly a UAL aircraft crash into the WTC. This was no mistake.
For the next few days I didn't go anywhere, just sat and watched the news. I emailed my close friends and church family checking to see how they were doing. Most of them were worried that I was on one of the planes. Trying to wrap my mind around this awfulness proved futile. The sickness of the way these people were killed hurt deeply.
Where was God?
In the days and months that followed, stories of survival and resilience encouraged my heart. Then I realized what man means for evil...
As many people who did perish that day there were many who survived despite the odds. As I started reading the recent 9/11 10 year anniversary issue of New York Magazine the stories are so heart wrenching and I feel silly even trying to articulate my personal pain and grief.
What I do know is that I was spared. I flew those planes, those routes, first class cabin near the cockpit. I shutter at the thought of what happened on those planes to the crew and the helpless passengers. The people working in the buildings that day who had no idea. How all of our lives have changed since then.
I lost my job after that, started to rebuild and ask God what He wanted me to do with my life. Of course this was nothing compared to the rebuilding our nation and the victims had to endure. Again, my struggles with 9/11 are pretty futile compared to the thousands of children who lost their parents, spouses who lost their mates, mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers. Friends. But somehow I feel their pain each time I look to where the towers were. Each time the clear blue skies of Fall appear. Each time I hear a plane fly overhead. I know I will never forget.
I had a two week vacation after that date. The original plan was to go to Italy with a Flight Attendant friend. But our plans changed and I ended up in my hometown of Southfield, Michigan. Actually, by this time I considered NYC my hometown. I still do. NYC, a city that I swore I never would consider moving to. A place that I have grown to love like no other. As much as I have fallen in love with places abroad, NYC still has a huge pull on my heart.
I remember my father waking me up on Tuesday, September 11 at around 9am or so. He says a plane crashed into one of the skyscrapers. I figured it was a small commuter plane or helicopter. But when I turned on the television my heart sank at the sight! I saw a plane that was clearly a UAL aircraft crash into the WTC. This was no mistake.
For the next few days I didn't go anywhere, just sat and watched the news. I emailed my close friends and church family checking to see how they were doing. Most of them were worried that I was on one of the planes. Trying to wrap my mind around this awfulness proved futile. The sickness of the way these people were killed hurt deeply.
Where was God?
In the days and months that followed, stories of survival and resilience encouraged my heart. Then I realized what man means for evil...
As many people who did perish that day there were many who survived despite the odds. As I started reading the recent 9/11 10 year anniversary issue of New York Magazine the stories are so heart wrenching and I feel silly even trying to articulate my personal pain and grief.
What I do know is that I was spared. I flew those planes, those routes, first class cabin near the cockpit. I shutter at the thought of what happened on those planes to the crew and the helpless passengers. The people working in the buildings that day who had no idea. How all of our lives have changed since then.
I lost my job after that, started to rebuild and ask God what He wanted me to do with my life. Of course this was nothing compared to the rebuilding our nation and the victims had to endure. Again, my struggles with 9/11 are pretty futile compared to the thousands of children who lost their parents, spouses who lost their mates, mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers. Friends. But somehow I feel their pain each time I look to where the towers were. Each time the clear blue skies of Fall appear. Each time I hear a plane fly overhead. I know I will never forget.
Romans 8:28
And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.
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