Hello all, Allison here.

Since I forgot to write a blog post last year, I figured I probably should this year...

8:45 pm, Point Pleasant NJ.
We just finished our first all-group discussion. We had a lot to talk about.
As you probably know, we had the opportunity to visit the 9/11 memorial in NYC yesterday, and I think it was one of the most eye-opening experiences of my life.
I only vaguely remember the actual event; I was four, still in daycare. I remember my mom (Hey Mom, how's it going? Yes, I've been getting to bed early enough. :) picking me up early from school. Once in the car, I questioned the reason behind it. She answered simply: "People died today, Allison." Back then, I didn't really understand what she meant; as a four year old, it can be difficult to grasp what "death" is. What it means, how it affects people. It wasn't until years later when I was finally introduced to the reality of the event that occurred on that day: four planes hijacked and aimed toward symbols of American power, the attacks carried out in the name of God. One plane hit the Pentagon, one crashed in a field before it could hit the capitol building in DC, and two struck and destroyed the World Trade Center towers in NYC. The horrors were incomparable, and they were especially apparent to me after visiting the memorial.
At the memorial there were names. They represented everyone lost in the attacks, from flight attendants on the hijacked flights to firemen crushed as they climbed to help those in the burning buildings. And there were a lot of names. Hundreds. Even thousands.
In the museum there were pieces of paper, burned on the outside. One a handwritten to-do list that had been blown from a desk and landed in the rubble hundreds of feet below. There were also pieces of the planes. A piece of siding with a window. A part of an engine. And dusty, ripped, seat-belts. Each a piece of reality, everyday life. Two things that I, as a student and a traveler, have become familiar with. Pieces of someone else's reality that had been blown to pieces.
I think this was what was most difficult for me; grasping how something so familiar and normal could become so horrible. How a normal day at work in a office so familiar could become a graveyard in seconds. A graveyard for so many.
To open the discussion this evening, Tom posed an interesting question: How do we find God in something like this?
Immediately, something like this seems impossible. How can there be a god when horrors like this occur? Surely the families and friends of those lost were asking the same question.  When one begins to grasp what "death" is, how can it be fair?
During the discussion, an idea was introduced. "God is the watchmaker, but the watch runs by itself."After seeing the exhibit and memorial yesterday and participating in the thorough discussion, I have come to a conclusion: God is in the awakening. He is not here to prevent or catalyze events. He watches. When the time comes, he is here to teach us lessons; to help us grow. While it was terrible, think of what our nation has learned from 9/11. The importance of security. That maybe, just maybe, we are not invincible. But most importantly, that we are not alone. One nation, under God. Families, friends, even strangers of contrasting religious and cultural backgrounds brought together by loss. Those who lost their lives now widely honored, even celebrated.
Today, I have come to realize something. While it was long (apologies :), I hoped this blog would show that. Yesterday, I walked through the 9/11 memorial searching desperately for some piece of reality to grasp. A piece of support. An understanding. In the end, I suppose it was not a coincidence that I looked up.
This week, as I continue my mission work, I hope to carry forward this ideal. This group has come to help those of completely different backgrounds to rebuild and regrow. We are bringing a community previously devastated by super-storm Sandy back together. We are showing those in Point Pleasant NJ that they are not alone...all in the name of God.