Was there a dry eye anywhere on the Eleventh of September
last year?

I remember calling Laura from work: "Ummm... have you heard
anything unusual this morning? Why don't you put the kids in
another room and turn on the TV?"

It was a day that broke the heart of America. Indelible images
of towers crumbling in slow motion. Dreams swept away in ashen
clouds of gray. Endless loops of somber imagery streaming through
the airwaves as a new reality sinks in.

20 years ago, these words were written of war torn Belfast Ireland,
describing courage in the face of adversity:

There has to be an invisible sun
Gives its heat to everyone
There has to be an invisible sun
Gives us hope when the whole day's done

Autumn sorrow gave birth to a new spirit of unity in America.
Who would have thought that high school students across the
country with bare midriffs and baggy pants would pledge
allegiance at candlelight vigils? Who would have predicted that
"God Bless America" would be the watchword of our day?

I believe in miracles. I believe in guardian angels. If you
don't, I'm not offended. But doesn't it seem like there was a
lot of both that day?

Personal accounts told to me: A pregnant NYC advertising
executive calls in sick that day - for the first time in seven
years.

Newlyweds booked on that ill-fated flight from Newark to
San Francisco, bumped to an identical flight: Same
destination. Same departure time. Different airline. They
witnessed the flaming tragedy through their airplane
window as they flew by.

The coincidences are so profound that what you believe
about this really says more about your own belief system
than it says about the facts at hand.

Where was God when New York was burning? He was
helping thousands of people somehow, inexplicably, show
up late for work on a Tuesday morning. He was placing
sentries who calmly directed secretaries and executives
alike to safety. Though He'd been summarily dismissed
from our schools, businesses and even churches, He still
showed up for work that day.

We lost 2819, not 28000. That's miracle in my book.

And last December when I wrote our family's Christmas
letter, I couldn't think of a better metaphor for the Christmas
story: New York firefighter charges up a smoke filled stairwell,
knowing he'll never come down. God's Son comes to shoulder
the sorrows of the world, knowing His life will end in bitter
suffering and cruel death.

Duty calls. Both entrust themselves to God's severe
mercy. "Not my will, but Thine be done."

One of the things I remember most was the condolences
and comforting words we personally received from friends all
over the world - Germany, Sweden, Australia, Japan, Brazil...
One of my brother's friends in China even cut her hair short as
a sign of mourning.

And most of all, our good neighbours in Canada. Most of us
Americans weren't even aware - but nearly every car, home and
apartment balcony in Canada had an American Flag waving proudly.

Thank you so much.

Tragedy reminds us how short life is, and how precious our
freedom is. What could more appropriate than for frenetic
business people to pause and be reminded that we only get
one shot at this fragile thing called life?

Tonight across our country there will be thousands of
memorial services, both small and large. Won't you take the time
away from your busy schedule and attend one? I'll be joining
you as we remember and pray for our nation.

Sincerely,

Perry S. Marshall


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