Everyone remembers where they were on Tuesday, 9/11/01! But do you remember where you were on the Thursday after 9/11?

On Monday, September 10, 2001 I had flown from Houston, TX (my home) to Cleveland, Ohio, rented a car and checked into the Hampton Inn Hotel.

On Tuesday, September 11, 2001 I was consulting with Grace Church in Cleveland, Ohio, helping them raise a few million dollars for an expansion project.
I drove into the parking lot around 8:50 am for a 9:00 am meeting.
I remember hearing on the radio a report of someone flying a plane into the World Trade Center.
My first thought was, “What idiot flew his plane into the World Trade Center? How can you not see those two huge, tall buildings in the middle of New York City!?”
As I got out of my car and headed toward the church office, a gentleman came out of the office and said, “Did you hear about the plane flying into the World Trade Center?” I responded, “Was it a Cessna?” He replied, “No, I think it was more like a Learjet, one of those private jets.”
Hmmmmm? How weird is that? Those were about the only two thoughts that meandered through my mind at that moment.

I walked into the church office and everyone was sitting around a little (I mean LITTLE!) black and white television with rabbit ears pointing in two different directions.
Everyone was staring at the billowing smoke rising out of the North Tower.
I stood shoulder to shoulder with my friend Ernie Richmond, who was on staff of Grace Church.
We leaned over, bent at the waist, eyes squinting and straining, trying to understand what we were watching.
Hushed tones emanated from us as if being quiet would help us comprehend and then….

At 9:03 am, we all gasped in one collective breath as a passenger jet came in to view of the camera on the tiny television screen, banked left and then unthinkably, unimaginably slammed into the South Tower.

One lone lady showed up for my 9:00 am meeting.
We moved into the conference room and began discussing the details of our called meeting.
We got off to a late start due to the events unfolding on the tiny television.

Our meeting ended a few minutes before the clock struck 10.
As I came out of the conference room, Ernie came running toward me with a horrified look on his face.
“The Tower just fell!”
My mind could not grasp what he was saying, “What do you mean, it fell?”
“It fell! It collapsed!”
If electrodes had been stuck all over my scalp to measure my brain activity at that very moment, they would have revealed one of two things:
1. Nothing – My mind went blank!
Or…
2. Overload leading to short circuitry!

I simply could not get my brain wrapped around what Ernie was trying to say and describe.
We both made our way back to the office, and there I stood staring at the replay of the North Tower collapsing on itself with slack jaw and bugged out eyes and a heart breaking into a million pieces…

You know the rest of the story…
Shock
Horror
Disbelief
Bewilderment
Anger
Patriotism at its highest
Prayers and more prayers…

By Wednesday, the whole country had basically shut down.
All air traffic had been grounded.
I sat in my hotel room and watched TV all day reliving the horrific events.
What I found bizarre about sitting there in my hotel room was I had been sitting in the exact same hotel room (Room 336) in the same hotel, Hampton Inn two and half years earlier watching the horrific events unfold at Columbine High School in Colorado on April 20, 1999 on the exact same TV set. What are the odds?

On the Thursday after 9/11 I called our home office in Dallas, Texas and talked with our travel agent.
Our conversation was brief.
I asked Sundee Allgood, “Any chance of flying out of Cleveland today or tomorrow?
Her answer was swift and sadly sweet, “No David, I’m afraid not. You’re going to have to get home another way.”

I hung up the phone and just sat there on the bed in room 336…
What am I going to do now? This recurring thought ran a marathon at a sprinter’s pace through my mind.
The thought finally hit the finish line, broke the tape and I knew what I had to do.

I packed my bags, checked out of the Hampton Inn, jumped into my rental car – A Chevy Blazer.
It was 10:00 am Eastern Standard Time.
I was heading to Houston, Texas.
I was heading HOME!

I had called my wife Julie from the hotel room, using my AT&T calling card (If you don’t know what that is… well…it was a card with an 800 number on it and you would then press in a code and then you would dial your desired number and only be charged three to four cents a minute versus the ten cents a minute the local carrier would charge you) and let her know I was coming home… by car!

As you can tell from the previous paragraph:
I had no cell phone…
I had no GPS…
I had no Siri…
I had no “apps”
I had no Google Maps…
I had no Apple Maps…
I had no “paper” Maps…

I had an AT&T calling card
I had a Chevy Blazer
I had an intense, almost feverish desire to get home to my loved one, my bride of three months and nine days – My Julie!

On the Thursday after 9/11 I started driving what would turn out to be a non-stop twenty-one (21) hour drive home.
Every couple of hours I would have to pull over to a gas station, find a pay phone, dial in my calling card number plus the code (I had it memorized by the time I arrived home) and find out from Julie, who had a Rand McNally Road Atlas (Just click on the link!) where I was to drive next, what interstate, what highway to get on in order to make my way home.

All through the night Julie would faithfully answer the “landline” phone with Road Atlas in hand and let me know what I needed to do for the next couple of hours. Encouraging words from Julie always filled my heart and fueled my desire to get home.

All along my route, every stop at every gas station, every convenience store, every clerk, every customer – they all said the same thing over and over, “USA! USA! USA!”
Everyone was proud to be an American!
Everyone was happy to help this homesick Houstonian get home.
Everyone offered words of encouragement, help, directions, pats on the back, smiles and even a few hugs sprinkled with “Bless your heart!”

At 6:00 am, having survived not only Houston’s rush hour traffic (we lived downtown), but also the twenty-one straight hours of driving, I pulled into the driveway at 1508 Rosalie Street.
The front door swung open and there she stood – my beautiful bride, the love of my life, the Julester – Julie Dendy!

I quickly swung open my door, hopped out and then the unexpected happened…
My knees buckled…
My ankles gave way…
My hands and arms reached out to the hood of the car to catch myself…
I simply collapsed right there on the driveway.
Exhaustion…
Weariness…
Emotionally drained and dripped dry…
Physically fatigued…

Julie picked me back up and we embraced for as long as my legs could stand it…
“Welcome home”, she whispered in my ear!
I was home, in the arms of my love!
A sweet, sweet smile stretched from ear to ear…
I was home on Friday the day after the Thursday after 9/11!

Laugh often and Fear not!
David!

ps – I have a feeling our Christian life’s journey is not much different than my twenty-one hour trek home to Houston from Cleveland.
We know we want to get home to heaven to be with our love, God the Father almighty, Jesus the Son, the Holy Spirit and all the saints who have gone before us.
We don’t know exactly what roads to take. We check in with God every couple of hours, minutes, or seconds asking for directions and help and encouragement.
The day finally arrives when we get “home” to heaven.
We hop out of our car!
And there He is… our Love! God is standing at the door of heaven with hands and arms open wide.
And then what?
We collapse…
We buckle…
We fall down on our knees
Emotionally drained and dripped dry from the journey of life here on earth.
And then…
Everyone and I mean every saint in heaven yells and jumps up and down for joy!
The Applause of Heaven is deafening as God picks us up with His arms of grace, His hands of love and with a voice like no other we hear the words our hearts have forever longed to hear…
“Welcome home!”