Angel in the Rubble: The Miraculous Rescue of 9/11's Last Survivor (An Inspiring Memoir)

by Genelle Guzman-McMillan

After talking with her dad about it for a while Tuesday night, trying to make sense of it the best that a twelve-year-old could, she cried herself to sleep, asking God the same questions Roger was asking and the same ones I had been asking while I was under the rubble: would God give me another chance to live? Come to think of it, God was probably being assailed with prayers at the exact same time by Roger, Kimberly, and me, not to mention all the family and friends who were praying. That thought later made me recall the miracle I believe I witnessed years earlier involving my aunt Hilda and how I credited that, in part, to all the people surrounding her in prayer. I felt my situation was different when I was praying for a miracle because I didn’t have all those people physically gathered around me. I felt like I was alone and on my own. But even though I could not see them, there were people praying just as hard, and in large numbers, for my survival. I felt like I was alone at the time, but I never was. Not even close.