September is a terrible time to have your birthday. I'm not blaming my parents because I was born late. My fault completely. I was actually due in August, about the same time. Yes, I actually procrastinated my own birth. This explains a lot. But back to reality, September just seems to be a bad time for a birthday, especially the tenth. Anybody know why? Hmm...maybe because of the eleventh. At least I decided to get out before the eleventh. No offense to anyone born on the eleventh. They have an even bigger reason to dread the day now. Still not sure why? Look at the picture. What happened to the building on September 11, 2001?You probably already know where I'm going with this. Yes, it is simply terrible to have your happy birthday on September tenth, because the very next day your brought back to the somber reality of life and morbidity. So many people died on the eleventh. They are still dealing with it to this day and some will always be dealing with the grief and loss of loved ones, friends, and co-workers. I can't imagine that. If my ex-wife had been in those buildings I seriously would have lost my mind at the time. This is where we take a side story.
On a cool morning in January, 1998, the twenty-ninth to be exact, I got back to from my early morning class and decided to flip on the t.v. in the dorm. This was in the nice days at Samford when I had no big life pressures. Dating was great; we had even started talking about marriage. I'm talking about my ex-wife Julie. Well, I turned on the old t.v. to watch whatever. As flipped through the channels all the news stations were broadcasting live from UAB's campus in Southside. Then thoughts began to flood my head. "Southside?! Wait, that's where Julie goes to school." Yes, her masters. "What's going on? A bomb? Where? Who was hurt? An abortion clinic. Why? Where near UAB?" Then they went on to tell exactly where. I was freaking out. Very much. I think I contained it somehow. At some point my roomies began piling into "disfuntion junction (another story)." I repeated what I knew.
Ok, I was flipping out. A bomb had gone off in front the "women's health" clinic in Southside killing a woman and injuring a security guard. "What woman? Who? Ok, Julie was not going any clinic; she's safe." I stayed glued to the t.v. for a long time. I kept seeing pictures over and over again that showed the road down which Julie parked to go to class. Yes, and they were not letting anyone down it, had the ATF on scene, and the FBI on scene. Ok, now I'm trying to figure out how to call Julie. I couldn't. It turns out the bomb went off at the clinic across the street from Al's restaurant, which was directly next to the parking lot where Julie parked.
Around 11a.m. she called. She was alive, o.k., but could't come home. Yeah, she could not get in her car. All the cars in the parking lot and near the scene had to be processed, searched, whatever to be cleared by the FBI of suspician. So, I went down to pick her up. Later we drove around the area and I realized how close she had been to domestic terrorism.
She had arrived at work early, about 7:30a.m. maybe. She parked, walked to class about 300 yards away, and was safe. But had she decided to arrive a little later and walk to the corner by Al's to cross the street, she could have been hit by the simple dynamite and nails bomb placed there by Eric Robert Rudolph. I thank God even now she got there early! The relief of still having my love was so great.
Wondering what this has to do with my birthday or September 11? I didn't lose any friends or family in 2001, especially on 9/11, as we call it. So I guess I can't relate to what those people feel, think, and know aside from my experience in 1998 here in Birmngham. Two things I have heard over and over from people lately. First, America and the world changed on 9/11/2001. Did it? Did the world stop turning, reverse direction, or lose any oxygen because of the events? No. But what did change? The people; the people changed. Some were angry, some torn up inside, some flung into fear, prejudice, and regret or revenge. Almost everyone I know sees something about life differently since the evets. We worry about traveling, about going in tall buildings, or what to say to certain people we meet in public, because of the background they come from! How did you change? How did you feel? How do you feel now? Seriously, leave me a comment and let me know. I'm just curious.
The second things I have heard so much is, "Where were you on 9/11?" or "What were you doing then?" I was sitting at home in the apartment we rented in Bluff Park getting ready to do some house work or something (I don't remember). I do remember calling Julie on her cell; yeah, was worried about her being near tall buildings. No joke. I had no teaching job yet and was sitting around at home hoping to hear from Birmingham City Schools, so I was glued once again to the t.v. Julie was o.k. and had heard what had happened. Two days later I got the call to go teach. I was still in shock, but it was weird that no one at school talked about it much in the office. But the students I met were confused and shocked like all of us were. "Why would someone do this?" they asked. I had a friend from our church that had moved away that was a retired Air Force pilot that on that morning boarded a plane out of Boston. He was the pilot and headed to the west coast. He later was commanded to land in Chicago's O'Hare for about three days. He departed the same air port as one or two of the planes used for the event, just an hour or two earlier. A day or two passed before it dawned on me of the connection with him and I wondered how he was. Months later he came to visit and told us his story. Wow! God was looking out for him. So where were you on that morning and what were you doing? I would love to know.
At first, I hated this question. It got old quick. But then I though about where I was, friends or family. I began to realize how as Christians we can look back at God's footprints in our lives and see where He placed us in life, or circumstances, to protect us. People do die, Christian or not. But they never die until God has finished using them to cary out His will. And then there are the lives he uses even after death to touch others. So many stories have re-surfaced lately about how others touched survivors of 9/11. It is amazing to listen to some of these stories. It is amazing to see how God uses us, each one, to "add to the beauty" of life (as Sara Groves would say). When I think about it fills me with life and creates a beautiful picture in my mind.
So, what else does my little story up there have to do with my b-day or 9/11? Well, the same year the Birmingham clinic was bombed I proposed to Julie. Ok, so what other connections are there? I propsed on September 11, 1998. Yes, the day after my birthday and the same day of the year as the ill-fated attacks. I was always bitter about that happening on that date. And what else happened later on to make me dislike that date? I was divorced. But five years later I see that no matter what day you were born on, life goes on and that day is not about one person. So omany things can happen in a day, good or bad, and we are players for God in that day. Not pauns, but players.
God is like the an athletic conference administrator. Our parents, the coaches. The day we are conceived we are recruited and put on the bench in a fresh jersey. The day we are born we are pulled off the bench and put into the game of our lifetime. We can get fouls, go out of bounds, get technicals, and sometimes God can "fine" us for certain actions. But what we do in the game, how we play, is determined by our coaching and training, as well as our own ambitions. Our "goal" is to "defend" the faith and "pass" it on. So on my thirtieth naked-suit-premier-day plus one I am reminded by God to live life according to a certain competiveness so that our team can win (which we know we already have, but still...). And we must continually recruit others to carry on the tradition of building great records.
I hope you are having a blessed day and had or will have a great b-day this year. Thanks for reading this late night banter about whatever you think it was about. If you got this far you must truly be someone I am close to or should be closer to knowing. Maybe tomorrow I'll actually proof read it and edit it to make some more sense. Good night on this quiet 9/11/06.
David P. Simmons
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