"The great pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do."

Visiting Shanksville, Pennsylvania In Search of Peace, Understanding and Healing

It was a gloomy Saturday in September. The weather was unpredictable, and the atmosphere was filled with moisture. Yet the clouds and the pollen filled air could not dampen the spirits of the people who assembled at the Somerset Holiday Inn for our fifth visit and screening in one of the most sacred places in America, Shanksville, PA., a screening that almost did not happen.

Yet, standing there in Somerset, no one would ever know about the winding, detour-filled road that led to this place.

Friends, old and new, from Virginia, New Jersey, New York and Pennsylvania, came to spend a day with us touring the site of the Temporary Memorial to the Heroes of Flight 93, sharing fellowship with the residents of Shanksville, participating in a screening of an episode of our What Is America Series, and learning what life is all about.

It was a marvelous band of brothers and sisters who were young and old, urban and rural, Yankees and Southerners. We were a brigade of small businessmen, government workers, bankers, teachers, AARP members and a group of students from College Misericordia. The young people were all decked out in the bright yellow and blue colors of the first Catholic college in Northeastern Pennsylvania.

Some of us were friends, others were acquaintances and some were strangers to our group. By the end of the day, we were all family.

Many things attract people to Shanksville: curiosity, empathy, healing. Our group was no different. We wanted to know, learn, experience and honor what took place in that sacred place. And all of these things we did.

Yet there is so much more to Shanksville. Here one finds redemption. Here one finds peace. Here one finds out what really is important in life. Here one finds the essence of America.

Perhaps it is the immensity of the debris field and the beauty of its natural surroundings. Perhaps it is the organic nature of the temporary memorial that grows out of the hearts of the people who live there and the thousands of people who visit and leave a part of themselves behind. Perhaps it is the essence of the story that compels people to come here. Perhaps it is the strength it gives to people who come to take it all in. Perhaps it is the beautiful simplicity of the place, as one member of our group said, “It is so real here.”

Whatever it is, it has a magic that worked on us and for us.

This is evidenced by the student who was so overcome she just could not move, or the staff member who tied a glass figurine with a red mark on the chain link fence, or the graduate student whose eyes were locked on the American flag that is tied to the fence where United 93 ended its journey.

It may have been best described in a line from a note we received after the trip: “From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for allowing me to be a part of this weekend. Everything that took place far exceeded my expectations, which were already very high before I arrived.”

Our trip to Shanksville was memorable in so many ways, and it all came together as we assembled in the United Methodist Church to watch Changed Forever, Part Two. This is a story of transformation, discovery, growth and fulfillment.

As we sat watching the images on the big screen, we were seeing very special people who were just like us, and they were expressing what we were feeling. It was a beautiful moment, a peaceful moment, a moment that was accurately recorded in a note recorded with black magic marker on a guardrail at the site:

“The peace you find here is eternal.”

When we drove away from this very special place in the pitch black of the Pennsylvania night each of us knew we were changed forever.

As Kitch and I made our way along the winding two lane road toward Somerset, we knew that the screening that almost did not happen was meant to be. In the stillness of the evening drive, images of the challenging weeks before the screening flashed through my mind. My memory landed on a saying recorded on a plaque that was given to me 30 years ago. It read: The great pleasure in life is doing what people say cannot be done.

The lights from an oncoming car startled me and ended the scene, but it could not remove the feeling of joy in my heart and the smile of accomplishment on my soul.

A Misericordia student named Leslie spoke for all of us when she wrote: “ It was an amazing experience, and I feel blessed that I was a part of it.”

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