Fifteen years ago tonight, just under 3,000 people went to bed for the last time. None of them could have known that the next morning, two planes would crash into the World Trade Center and one into the Pentagon building, bringing their lives abruptly to an end.
None of them had an inkling that they were kissing their spouses and children for the last time. Most of them had dreams and plans far beyond that fateful Tuesday, plans that didn’t include having terrorist fly planes into the buildings where they worked.
I can’t believe it’s been 15 years. It blows my mind to think that the high school freshman will learn about 9/11 as history because none of them were alive when it occurred. Suddenly, I feel old.
I remember it vividly. I can still recall the details of being called into my boss’ office and both of us wondering what in the world was happening until the second plane hit the building.
I hope that each of those who remember that day will never forget what happened.
More importantly, I hope each of us will never forget to tell those close to us whom we love every day at every opportunity how much they mean to us and how much we love them.
I hope each of us will not put off until tomorrow what is in our power to do today– whether that’s chasing a dream of ours or helping others find their own destinies.
I hope we will choose to forgive those who hurt us and release them from the expectation that they can fix our brokenness (when only God can do that).
I hope we will be people who love boldly and extend grace boldly and evangelize boldly.
I hope we will live this and every day after like it was our last day on earth, knowing that tomorrow is not promised but that all our times are in the hands of God.