nmah4861.xml
Title
nmah4861.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-09-13
NMAH Story: Story
An Angel Touched Me on September 11th
© Susan M. Bedell (9/11/01)
21 Deer Trail Point
Wharton, NJ 07885
973 663 2019
On September 11, 2001, amidst the horror that was painting our TV screens and the growing death cloud on our eastern horizon, I went to Saint Clare's Hospital in Denville NJ for a simple, scheduled test.
Everyone there was stunned but they were working with even more determination as St. Clares Hospital had been designated to receive post-trauma patients from the World Trade Center Rescue Operation. I walked out of the testing area and found myself facing the Chapel.
I was overwhelmed with the impulse to go to the Spiritual Service Office and sign up to be a Eucharistic Minister at the hospital. I went in, told the Deacon that I was a Eucharistic Minister with hospital experience but that I had not been active in the field since I relocated to the area years ago. After my papers were submitted and checked out, I started making regular weekly rounds 2 days a week.
During my first week on duty as a Eucharistic Minister at Saint Clares Hospital, I found out that another Eucharistic Minister, Marge Benson, had been killed in the World Trade Center at seemingly the same moment that I was drawn to take her place as a Spiritual Services Volunteer on her rounds. I believe in miracles.
I never met Marge Benson, although she was about my age and lived nearby, but she will always be a very special part of my life. I pray for her and for all those who perished in the Twin Towers, at the Pentagon and sacrificing themselves on Flight 93 so that hundreds or perhaps even thousands of others might live.
On September 11, 2001, among the terror, the tears, the horror and the hope of rescuing survivors that would never be found, I was touched by an Angel as she and thousands of other innocents rose above the flames into Paradise.
© Susan M. Bedell (9/11/01)
21 Deer Trail Point
Wharton, NJ 07885
973 663 2019
On September 11, 2001, amidst the horror that was painting our TV screens and the growing death cloud on our eastern horizon, I went to Saint Clare's Hospital in Denville NJ for a simple, scheduled test.
Everyone there was stunned but they were working with even more determination as St. Clares Hospital had been designated to receive post-trauma patients from the World Trade Center Rescue Operation. I walked out of the testing area and found myself facing the Chapel.
I was overwhelmed with the impulse to go to the Spiritual Service Office and sign up to be a Eucharistic Minister at the hospital. I went in, told the Deacon that I was a Eucharistic Minister with hospital experience but that I had not been active in the field since I relocated to the area years ago. After my papers were submitted and checked out, I started making regular weekly rounds 2 days a week.
During my first week on duty as a Eucharistic Minister at Saint Clares Hospital, I found out that another Eucharistic Minister, Marge Benson, had been killed in the World Trade Center at seemingly the same moment that I was drawn to take her place as a Spiritual Services Volunteer on her rounds. I believe in miracles.
I never met Marge Benson, although she was about my age and lived nearby, but she will always be a very special part of my life. I pray for her and for all those who perished in the Twin Towers, at the Pentagon and sacrificing themselves on Flight 93 so that hundreds or perhaps even thousands of others might live.
On September 11, 2001, among the terror, the tears, the horror and the hope of rescuing survivors that would never be found, I was touched by an Angel as she and thousands of other innocents rose above the flames into Paradise.
NMAH Story: Life Changed
On the Beach at Lake Shawnee, NJ
© Susan M. Bedell (9/17/01)
21 Deer Trail Point
Wharton, NJ 07885
973 663 2019
The minister asked us to pray with our eyes open. I stood there drifting in and out of the daze that had enveloped me from the moment that made for TV acts of terror had invaded the worlds living rooms. Planes filled with innocents crashed over and over into skyscrapers in New York, an oddly shaped structure in Washington, DC and a field in Pennsylvania. The world sat helpless in front of TVs and computer screens absorbing the blows of hatred from every camera angle on which the lens could focus.
Minutes evolved into hours, into days, into a pattern of caution that everyone knew would reshape the ordinary events of living. The shinning Big Apple was now the smoldering Ground Zero. But, the terrorists had missed their mark. The minds, hearts and souls of the nation did not disintegrate with the infernos, instead they were fused together into a raging roar of patriotism and determination that was, One Nation, Under God, Indivisible with Liberty and Justice for All.
These are the words we muttered September 16th at 7 PM on the beach of Lake Shawnee, New Jersey. A group of our youngest citizens acted as symbols of freedom as we pledged allegiance to the tiny flags they held with arms of steel. Then, with eyes wide open we prayed for fallen comrades, our fellow Americans in the planes, in the towers, in the pentagon, in the field.
We asked Gods blessings on the men and women now putting their lives in harms way as they wore the uniforms of Firefighters, Police Officers, EMS Workers and Volunteers. We held candles and small flags and listened to songs sung through tears. The awkwardness of our small community service vanished with the setting sun. The voices grew stronger. The tears flowed unashamedly.
As we sang the National Anthem, three children emerged from the crowd, walked to the center of the beachfront and released red balloons as we sang, the bombs bursting in air. I watched them rise into the night and thought that no firework display put on for the 4th of July would ever again inspire me the way those three red balloons did that evening as I huddled with my friends and neighbors on the beach of Lake Shawnee in the mountains of New Jersey.
None of us knew what tomorrow would bring, but all of us felt stronger knowing that we would go through it together. We planted our candles in the sand like seeds of hope fighting to survive through the dark times that surely were to come. We hugged our children and each other. We were part of the greatest nation the world has ever known. We had been attacked but we, as a people, would never be beaten. God Bless America.
© Susan M. Bedell (9/17/01)
21 Deer Trail Point
Wharton, NJ 07885
973 663 2019
The minister asked us to pray with our eyes open. I stood there drifting in and out of the daze that had enveloped me from the moment that made for TV acts of terror had invaded the worlds living rooms. Planes filled with innocents crashed over and over into skyscrapers in New York, an oddly shaped structure in Washington, DC and a field in Pennsylvania. The world sat helpless in front of TVs and computer screens absorbing the blows of hatred from every camera angle on which the lens could focus.
Minutes evolved into hours, into days, into a pattern of caution that everyone knew would reshape the ordinary events of living. The shinning Big Apple was now the smoldering Ground Zero. But, the terrorists had missed their mark. The minds, hearts and souls of the nation did not disintegrate with the infernos, instead they were fused together into a raging roar of patriotism and determination that was, One Nation, Under God, Indivisible with Liberty and Justice for All.
These are the words we muttered September 16th at 7 PM on the beach of Lake Shawnee, New Jersey. A group of our youngest citizens acted as symbols of freedom as we pledged allegiance to the tiny flags they held with arms of steel. Then, with eyes wide open we prayed for fallen comrades, our fellow Americans in the planes, in the towers, in the pentagon, in the field.
We asked Gods blessings on the men and women now putting their lives in harms way as they wore the uniforms of Firefighters, Police Officers, EMS Workers and Volunteers. We held candles and small flags and listened to songs sung through tears. The awkwardness of our small community service vanished with the setting sun. The voices grew stronger. The tears flowed unashamedly.
As we sang the National Anthem, three children emerged from the crowd, walked to the center of the beachfront and released red balloons as we sang, the bombs bursting in air. I watched them rise into the night and thought that no firework display put on for the 4th of July would ever again inspire me the way those three red balloons did that evening as I huddled with my friends and neighbors on the beach of Lake Shawnee in the mountains of New Jersey.
None of us knew what tomorrow would bring, but all of us felt stronger knowing that we would go through it together. We planted our candles in the sand like seeds of hope fighting to survive through the dark times that surely were to come. We hugged our children and each other. We were part of the greatest nation the world has ever known. We had been attacked but we, as a people, would never be beaten. God Bless America.
NMAH Story: Remembered
The People who died were mostly civilians. The terrorists who killed them were religious fanatics and madmen. They were not representatives of a true religion and we, as Americans, should know from our past history as a nation of immigrants that people of other creeds and from other countries should not be painted with a broad brush of hatred and prejudice.
NMAH Story: Flag
I have flown American flags from my home and my car every day since September 11, 2001. I usually wear a flag pin everyday.
Whenever I am serving as a Eucharistic Minister in the hospital in memory of Marge Benson, my Angel, I always wear a flag ribbon held together with a gold cross.
Whenever I am serving as a Eucharistic Minister in the hospital in memory of Marge Benson, my Angel, I always wear a flag ribbon held together with a gold cross.
Citation
“nmah4861.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed November 22, 2024, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/42287.