9/11

Do you remember where you were when you heard of the attack on the World Trade Center in New York? I do. I was serving as a missionary for a semester in the Philippines. I had gotten up in the guest house where I was staying that morning and gone downstairs to the kitchen to fix me a bowl of granola and some coffee - what I ate most mornings before going to school. I was teaching English to high school missionary children in Mindanao International Christian Academy in Davao in the Southern Philippines.

The shocking, unbelievable images I saw on the television screen have never faded. Al-Qaeda, a terrorist organization with strong ties in Indonesia and the Southern Philippines, was held responsible. The SIL compound where I stayed went on lock-down, and all missionaries were asked to stay in their homes until the situation could be assessed. The school was closed for three days. Thankfully, nothing happened, and we resumed classes the next week.

My family, especially my daughter, was understandably worried about me. But as I told her, I appeared to be safer where I was than she was in the United States. At least there'd been no such attacks in the Philippines. I had a peace that passed all understanding during the time. Because of the way things had come together to get me to the Philippines, I knew this was exactly where I was supposed to be. When the semester ended, I found myself eager to get home for Christmas, but I would never forget my remarkable time in the Philippines.

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