Why do bad men throw airplanes into tall buildings, Grandma?

Where was I on 9/11/2001?

My thoughts were in the Middle East even before I caught a glimpse of the smoking towers on TV. I traveled regularly to Jerusalem and the surrounding villages, as well as cities in Jordan, Egypt and Kyrgyzstan, because I worked for a relief and development organization with projects and staff in these areas.

That fateful morning I was in my apartment in Chandler, Arizona, getting ready for work, but a part of me was already at the office planning for my next overseas trip and that day’s correspondence with my beloved colleagues and the Arab families we worked with.

“Joan, come here. Quickly,” shouted Richard from the living room. We both stared at the television screen in disbelief. Time seemed to stand still. Silently, we sat on the sofa and held hands.

What was happening?

Finally we made it to the office where we worked together. Emails and calls of sympathy from our Middle Eastern friends poured in. They expressed their sorrow with words like “tragedy, pain, sorry, senseless, unbelievable.” They grieved with us. For American’s loss.

When I talked to my three-year old granddaughter later that day, she asked, “Why do bad men throw airplanes into tall buildings, Grandma?”

Why, indeed!?

In the days and weeks that followed, I found no adequate response.

As usual, I spoke to groups about our work among the poor Arab families, about the schools we supported in remote villages and the churches we empowered in many cities and towns. Always being careful how I shared the amazing good-news stories because I didn’t want to endanger the lives of those working there. Still don’t.

Today as I recall that horrific act on what started out as an ordinary day 25 ago, my memories drop with a thud into my heavy heart. I can’t get my granddaughter’s question out of my mind: Why do bad men throw airplanes into tall buildings, Grandma?

God, help us. We all need You.

---

* The above  photo is of September 11, 2001 — The World Trade Center. Photograph: public domain, via the Library of Congress.
UPDATE: The 3 year-old granddaughter who asked me that question 25 years ago is now a married woman with two children of her own: my precious great-granddaughter and great-grandson.
Admitting that "Time Marches On" seems so cliche. Yet, both the knowledge of the wrong committed and the pain we've experienced are still real.
 

Loving Lord,
You see and hear those who grieve.
You understand how hard it is.
And you choose to be with and comfort your beloved children.
By your power, make your compassionate presence known to us all today as we remember.
In the name of the Father, Son Jesus, and Holy Spirit, Amen. 

---