Photo and article by guest writer Amy Lloyd

Thank you, Flight 93: You died so that I might live.

It was 8:30 a.m. on the morning of September 11, 2001, and it started out just like a typical day in Congressman John Thune’s Congressional office on Capitol Hill. Lights still off, the aroma of coffee and the sound of the copy machine firing up for the busy day ahead, we soaked in the quiet before the storm of the phones ringing off the hook or the latest crisis while reading legislative briefings and writing House floor vote recommendations for the Congressman.

The office opened at 9 a.m. with a staff meeting to discuss the day’s legislative schedule, constituent meetings and press calls. A few minutes before the meeting was to start someone yelled, “Turn on the TV! The World Trade Center is on fire!” Instead of turning on our own desk TV’s, we rushed into the Congressman’s office and watched the news coverage together to discover the North Tower was struck by a plane. Was it an accident or was it a terrorist attack were the questions being asked by Congressman Thune and my fellow staffers, by the reporters on TV and by Americans all over the world. By 9:03 a.m., we knew the answer to the question when we watched a second plane hit the South Tower on live cable news.

We tried the best we could to brief the Congressman on the day’s schedule. When we were almost done, my husband Matt called the main line of the office insisting to talk to me. He was across the Potomac River near the Pentagon in Arlington, VA, to get our car serviced. “Great,” I thought to myself, “It’s probably a hefty repair.” When I got to the phone he was panicked.

He saw a low-flying plane overhead, felt the ground shake and heard the impact of Flight 77 crash into the Pentagon. “Evacuate! Get out of there! Just. Get. Out!”

The TV coverage changed to split-screen live video of the attack on America. We decided as a staff we needed to figure out where to go and what to do. The problem was no one knew. My clearest memory of 9/11 to this day was our legislative director on the phone with the U.S. Capitol Police yelling, “What do you mean you don’t know where to send the Congressman? What do you mean you don’t know what we’re supposed to do?”

We decided to evacuate to our chief of staff’s Capitol Hill apartment a few blocks away. The Capitol Complex was formally evacuated shortly thereafter. When we arrived at his place, we learned of the plane that crashed in Somerset County, PA. Some of us tried to make phone calls, but everything was jammed with all of Washington trying to call loved ones. The entire city was under evacuation.

Congressman Thune’s wife, Kimberley, was with us. She rarely travelled to Washington, DC, but she was providentially with us on that day and provided a calming presence for us all. The press secretary’s email and voicemail was full from reporters in South Dakota wanting to speak to Congressman Thune. She set up a conference call and while he spoke to the reporters we all sat there listening, still in disbelief.

The following days revealed that there was a good chance Flight 93, the plane that crashed upside-down almost 600 miles per hour into the Somerset County field in Pennsylvania, was headed for the U.S. Capitol, where I was working.

In the immediate wake of the tragedy, we experienced a coming-together of Americans more than I have experienced in my short lifetime. Americans returned to churches and temples and prayed for our nation. Men and women felt moved to join the U.S. Armed Forces to protect our country and fight for freedom. Republicans and Democrats worked together like no other time in contemporary politics. Amidst the tragedy and the mourning, there was a sweet fellowship of solidarity.

Every year on 9/11, I thank God for the ordinary people that courageously acted to prevent Flight 93 from making it to the Capitol.

But, as the years go by, I wonder if the tragedy of the day has become lost. In recent years, I returned to school to study music. As a graduate student last year I sat in a classroom on 9/11 surrounded by students 20 years younger than me. The weather was exactly how it was on 9/11, a beautiful morning. The professor lectured on instrumental music of the seventeenth century while I acted like I was paying attention, but instead was deep in thought doing the math on how old my classmates were on 9/11 and if they even remember it. I decided that day to take our children to the Flight 93 National Memorial as soon as we could make it happen.

This past July we finally visited the Memorial. As we approached the visitor’s center, there was a Park Ranger at a small exhibit explaining the various areas of the park. She asked after her short speech if there were any personal stories that people wanted to share from 9/11. I told them that I was in the Longworth House Office Building on 9/11. A woman looked at me and said, “Those people saved your life.” I could barely speak, “I’ve always wanted to come here.”

We walked to the overlook before going into the visitor’s center. On the glass of the balcony is the quote; “A common field one day. A field of honor forever.” Matt asked me if I wanted to take a photo, but I couldn’t do it. This was hallowed ground. It was a powerful moment standing there looking down the hill at the boulder that is at the crash site.

I just kept thinking over and over: “They died so that I might live. They died so that I might live.” Seventeen years of life and living since September 11, 2001 flashed before me in my thoughts in a matter of minutes as I stood in that spot.

I realized maybe my children might not have been born had the plane made it to the Capitol. And, as a Christian, one who believes that Jesus Christ, the son of God, died so that I might live, I realized it was the most poignant symbol of my faith that I could ever experience on this side of eternity.

On Sunday, the Flight 93 National Memorial dedicated its new Tower of Voices chime structure including a wind chime to represent each of the 40 lives of the passengers and crew on Flight 93. Their voices will not and cannot be forgotten.

Thank you Flight 93: You died so that I might live.

You died so that 35,000 Americans at the U.S. Capitol might live.

You died so that America might live.

We will never forget.

This article is written by Amy Lloyd. Amy served as a legislative assistant for three Members of Congress from 2000-2006. She is now a singer, speaker and teacher based out of Southern Maryland near Washington, DC. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram: @Lloyd_Amy_. For bookings, go to www.amylloydmusic.com.

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