My Son got angry, too. It's all right to be angry sometimes at injustice, for example, or the lack of charity. You probably think I am unjust and uncharitable when airplanes smash into buildings. All those people lost. The destruction of so much property. It doesn't seem right; it can't be loving. You ask, Where was God? Why would He allow that to happen?   I allow it to happen because I allow you freedom. I could have kept you on a string and made you dance all day without you getting tired. I could have moved your mouth for you and made you sing all night without growing hoarse. I could have pulled a wire that would have let you soar skyward and never fall.

I could have, but I didn't because I love you too much. I wanted you to be free to decide when to dance and sing. Free to determine when you will come to Me in faith and hope. Because you are free, some of you choose not to dance or sing. Some of you select hatred over love, revenge over forgiveness, bombs over a helping hand. As you choose, I watch. I do not disappear. I listen to both the songs and the bombs. And I remember. "Where was God?" you wonder. I was there. I whispered in the ear of a little girl, "Don't be afraid; I am with you." I held the hand of a businesswoman as tightly as she clutched mine. I cradled a pilot against my shoulder as if he were a baby again.

Amid the paralyzing fear, I was there, as I was there with My Son in the garden. Amid the unbearable pain, I was there, as I was with Him as He was whipped. Amid the terrible realization that life was ending too soon, I was there. When He hung from the cross and screamed in pain the same question as you are asking, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken Me?" I was there.