Remembering

Its 12 years ago today since those planes flew in to New York's tallest buildings. I remember the crowd at Asda, where C and I were shopping at the time, all gathered around the TV's in the electrical department. Everyone not quite believing what was happening, all of us unable to turn away, unable to take it all in. It seemed like a scene from the movie Independance Day.

10 years before that date, I was sitting at the top of one of those towers, eating at the Windows of the World Restaurant, watching the cloud level drop below us, so that at one point I could see both above and below the clouds. At the point in which the cloud dropped below the Empire state Building, the moonlight split and divided into tiny light paths, in all directions. The thunderstorm taking place at that moment produced lightening that looked more purple than white on black. All of those sitting with me, got up from the tables to look, struck by the majesty of it all. The waiter, who had been asking us where we were from, turned to me and said

'you will never get another view like this'!

I have never forgotten that evening.

His words were never truer: I will never get a view from there ever again.

And when I think of that view, and the photos I took in the massive lobby of those buildings that night, it makes the horror all the more real; the scale of it, the thousands affected by it all. the sheer scale of the destruction; the people struggling to escape; that in a very short space of time something so solid and huge came crashing down. All those lives, the unsaid goodbyes, the unfinished breakfast conversations, the plans, hopes and aspirations of so many all now lost; the relatives waiting; the heart wrenching phone calls, and all the while the smoke hiding it all. I think about that waiter, and wonder where is he now.

And in the midst of all that wreckage a cross: two iron girders together which have become a symbol to many, regardless of faith, regardless of colour or nationality, a symbol of hope, the search for some kind of sense in all the chaos. A hope that we are not alone in all this, in the shock, grief, anger, fear, and pain. That is the hope I cling to, the wonder of the incarnation. Its not a sentimental sugar coated hope, rather that somewhere, under all the mess, and with the smoke still swirling, the agony, the darkness, the pain and grief, God is there. Sometimes I cannot see Him. But that does not mean He is not there. Its like oxygen really, there but not visible.

So as I look at this image, I hope for God in the midst of all that chaos, and I remember.

Welcome, welcome!! It's relaunch time.

I've been inspired to relaunch this blog, share my experiences as I go through Curacy, and hear from you on all matters God, families, the world, cars, rugby, relationships, food.......

I wanted it to be a virtual fireside, a beer cellar, an evening with whiskey, so draw up a chair, lie on the floor, grab a beanbag, stick some chilled music on, and lets chat......

oh and did I say anything about whiskey?......