We all have dates that mean so much to us etched in our brains. One of many for me is July 7, 2005. My family was in London and were to travel home on July 8, 2005. After conversations with them, I learned they would be spending the day sightseeing and shopping in the city.

Then I saw breaking news about a bomb on a double-decker bus in London. Most of what happened was a blur, but I remember frantically dialing phone numbers to reach anyone who could tell me they were okay.

That day, I cried and prayed for forgiveness for myself and my family and begged God to protect them. I went to my parents' house for support, and my father was ultimately out of focus and didn't seem to care. He was in his study, writing and faxing papers back and forth. I kept talking, crying, and praying, but I didn't get any reaction. Then his fax machine went off and was spitting out a lot of papers. After reading it, his face lit up, and he asked if I was okay. I completely broke down and started crying uncontrollably. This man wasn't listening and didn't hear anything I said.

I later found out; his boss was traveling near the place the bomb went off and feared dead. But the last fax confirmed he was okay.

We finally got hold of my family, and they decided at the last minute not to go sightseeing but spend the day at the park. They missed it all and little did they know, that decision was the best news I had heard all day, and before that, I was on the verge of a heart attack.

Peace!