How 9/11 Saved My Dad
After hours of being glued to the television on that fateful day, as multitudes of others had been, I tore myself away from those horrific images and walked outside. Everyone at work was either crying or silent with shock. My nerves were raw, my heart was pounding, and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I had to have a cigarette.
The staggering heat enveloped me like a wet blanket as I stepped out the door and lit up, but I barely noticed. My mind was too full of thoughts and emotions clouding my head, and the one that kept coming to the surface the most was my dad. I knew it was time.
For the past fifteen years I had been praying for my dad to come to know the Lord. My father was the quintessential atheist who grew up in the turbulent sixties, and viewed faith...
