I was in New York City on September 11, 2001, spending a week with eight colleagues doing some work for the Corporation for National Services (CNS), whose headquarters is in Washington, D.C. CNS is home for such programs as the Americorp, Volunteers in Service to America (VISTA), the Senior Corp and more. The heart and soul of this organization is 'service,' building communities, making America a better place for all of us. How ironic that we were gathered in New York City to enhance VISTA's capacity to strengthen the communities of America, on a day when terrorists tried to destroy and diminish the fabric of America's strength.

September 11, 2001 is a day that changed not only the lives of Americans, but the lives of many, many people all over the world. Trying to absorb the enormity of the devastation which occurred at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, the horrific loss of innocent lives, the crushing grief for all who lost loved ones, homes, employment, futures filled with hopes and dreams, and deep, unnamed gifts of life, whose loss we, perhaps, are not even aware of, is simply impossible.

In order to leave New York City several days later, I had to take a train to Baltimore, where I was picked up by a loving sister and nephew who drove me home to Michigan. It is now two weeks later and many overwhelming thoughts and emotions continue to rise within me, and in their midst, a few tender ones prevail. I would like to share a few of the latter.

One of the mornings following 9/11, I was able to reach my oldest daughter. Hearing her gentle voice has always been calming for me. She asked me to speak to my oldest granddaughter, who is nine, and knew I was in New York City. When Shelby came on the line, I asked her how she was. She replied, “Grandma, the important question is how are YOU?” Being able to talk to my daughter and granddaughter was soothing for me … I was centered in their love that was palpable even over the telephone.

I had worried how difficult it would be for my daughter and son-in-law to tell their children what had happened. How does a parent, grandparent, teacher, aunt, uncle explain such a gruesome act? How do parents deal with each of their children's needs, fears, questions, uncertainties in the face of such evil? It had not occurred to me to think about how worried they would be for me. When I saw them after returning home, words were not the measure. Long, intense hugs … heart-to-heart, skin-to-skin hugs said what words could never capture. I keep thinking of their greeting, my sister's tearful embrace, my nephew's strong arms around me, the several hundred miles they drove to assure my safe journey home.

The Friday service I attended at Riverside Church in Manhattan often comes to mind. I went to the Church with a colleague who is Jewish, a colleague who is African-American, another who is married to a woman from Romania, a colleague who is Gay, and one who is Italian. We all sat together and in front of us were a group of people of Asian descent, to our right were people from the Middle East who barely spoke English. We all shed tears when we named out loud the people we knew who had died or who were feared dead. We all sang together, first with the accompaniment of an organ and then with African drums. We all prayed and held hands together. And as we left the Church, the service over, spontaneous, long, intense hugs spoke eloquently of our bond. Each of us together, a microcosm of the world, were speaking the same language, carrying the same burden, holding the same hopes and fears.

When I returned to my home, I checked my e-mail. One of the messages was from a young man I had met in India this past January. He had graciously purchased some 'Vicks Inhaler' to help me combat some stuffy sinuses. I had not asked him to do this, he just did. I expressed my deep thanks to him the next morning, as I felt much better, and we exchanged e-mail addresses. But neither of us had e-mailed each other until this message arrived from him. In it he wrote, “My family and I give the condolence to the people who died in the terrible blast. I would like to say to you also that please don't think you are alone … we are all with you … and also with your great country.”

Today I know in a deeper, fuller way, how blessed I am to be a parent, to be a grandmother, to be not just an American but a member of the community of the World. This, I believe, is how we help our children and grandchildren and ourselves through this difficult time.. This, I believe, is the light we must each hold for each other as members of the world community.

Copyright © 2001 Elaine K. Williams. All rights reserved worldwide.