I was living on Dallas then. I had just gotten home from a graveyard shift at work. I kissed my wife as she headed off to Dallas Theological Seminary where she worked. I took my son to school and came back home to go to sleep.
It was a normal start of what would be a not close to normal day. There would be very little sleep. For this day, this eleventh day of September, was far from normal.
It was shortly before 8a (Dallas time), everything changed … forever.
I remember watching TV for hours.
I remember calling my wife. Calling my mother.
I remember saying prayers.
I remember shedding some tears.
Later that day, I remember holding my family in my arms.
I remember images of ash covered crowds walking away from the disaster as first responders moved into the danger zone.
As time went on, hours and days, I remember a nation mourning, a nation angry, and heroes serving.
I remember churches full – we sat in the packed balcony at First Baptist Dallas – worshiping and praying.
I remember corporate prayers and a calmness of my soul.
I remember being changed forever.