Article September 5, 2011 Issue

A New Yorker’s prayers: Then and now

By Felice Meyer

There was nothing particularly unusual going on in my life, but that Monday evening, September 10, 2001, I could find peace only by curling up with my Bible and Science and Health and turning to God in prayer about everything I could think of. My prayers were focused on God’s presence and supremacy, divine Love’s government over all. After three hours, I went to bed still feeling uneasy, but reasoning I had done all I could. 

Around 10 AM the next morning, I began making phone calls for work but couldn’t get a connection. Annoyed, I called the operator who flatly informed me that we’d been attacked and to turn on the TV. Every station was replaying the collapse of the Twin Towers and reporting on the other attacks on the Pentagon and in the skies over Pennsylvania. Stunned, my husband and I watched. Then, a deep horror began to rise up within me like a tsunami. Our son earned extra money proofreading legal documents and he had been booked for an all-nighter at a law firm in one of the Towers. He wasn’t home yet. 

“Oh Father,” I mentally wailed, “If only I had known, my prayers could have been more specific.” I pulled away from the images and looked out our window. What I saw was so startling it lifted my thoughts right out of that sinking fear. 

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