I was in my office three blocks from the World Trade Center when the towers came down on Sept. 11, 2001. Our office occupied a street-level space on William Street facing the towers from the east. When the north (second) tower fell, dozens of people covered in ash streamed into our lobby as the air grew thick with gray dust. A man came rushing in the front door, dropped a woman in a chair and exited as quickly as he had entered.

We helped the woman to a desk where she explained that she was in New York on business and was staying at the World Trade Center Marriott. She was in a meeting on the 70th floor of the north tower when the first plane struck. She described a thunderous explosion and quickly headed for the exit and down to the ground. She collapsed on the sidewalk, unable to run on an injured ankle. A stranger picked her up off the street and fled carrying her until they arrived in our lobby. I phoned her mother in Georgia to confirm that her daughter was alive and OK and we carried her to the emergency room at NYU Downtown hospital around the corner. Outside the ER we observed countless doctors, nurses, gurneys and ambulances – but very few patients. It was at once a welcome and disturbing scene.

Why did this person survive when nearly 3,000 people did not? Would she have survived had that stranger not picked her up off the street? We do not know.

How did 9/11 change me? First, I continue to find hope amidst life’s uncertainties. I cherish time with my family and friends. I remind myself frequently what truly matters – and does not matter – in life. I often have wondered how many times I have been inside the WTC or taken the subway to that stop on my way to work. I cherish the life that I have.

I also found it significant that I was at work with my staff during the attack. It reminds me that we spend a great amount of life at work, so it is imperative we find ways to cultivate meaningful relationships and create pleasant work environments for each other.

The attacks affected everyone. For a brief moment we had Wall Street executives, two of the mayor’s commissioners and three homeless people seeking shelter in our office, while I spoke on the phone with my family in Kansas.

Terrorism is random. Terrorism is real. As I learned in Boy Scouts long ago, we need to “be prepared.” I think of emergency preparedness. I also understand the act of preparing serves to assuage fears. Terrorists seek to advance their agenda by deriving power from those who become paralyzed by fear. We must not allow fear to control our lives. We must not lose hope. Nor can we stop believing in the kindness of that stranger.