"The previous summer, I had attended a couple of church service at the Brooklyn Tabernacle at the urging of a friend. Though I had really been touched by what I saw and heard, feeling the sermon had been delivered just for me, (BUT) I hadn't been ready to give up the partying, the carousing. Someday I would do it, I told myself. But not right now! I am too young, having too much fun."

Sounds familiar?

But today Genelle has changed.

"... now I tell people, 'Tomorrow is not guaranteed to anyone. You don't know what is going to happen to you.... I don't think people get a second chance like I did. Today I can live for him and tell other people about what God has done in my life because God saved me.

What happened?

Genelle disliked church, thinking it is a waste of time?

When she was 19 she was expecting a child and moved in with her boyfriend.
The relationship lasted 6 years. After the split she spend more time at clubs & parties. She was feeling that at last she is having her own life, the life she had always wanted with no one to answer to.

She worked with Port Authority of New York on the 64th floor in North Tower of the World Trade Centre. When American Airlines Flight 11 slammed into the building, Genelle & 14 others headed down the stairway.

"By the 13th floor, I could not take it anymore. As I leaned to take off my shoes, the whole place went boom & completely black. I fell back toward the wall and fell to the floor. My eyes & mouth were filled with gravel & dust. I knew I was being buried alive. I was still breathing with my leg & hair pinned under the concrete.

I knew then I was going to die. I started calling Rosa my friend but there was no response. Then I heard a man saying, "Help, help, help." His voice grew fainter and then there was nothing. In the dark, I thought of my children, family, fiance. More than anything, I worried about what would happen to me after I died. I did not know how to ask for forgiveness. I was sure I was going to hell.

I was in & out of consciousness. Every time I woke up, I tried removing the rubble. My head started to swell. I wanted to get it free from the concrete rushing forward & backward.

That's when I started praying "God, I can't take this pain. Help me get my head free of the concrete." Then I made one hard pull & feel the hair ripping from the scalp. My head was bleeding but at least it was free.

My foot started to swell and I could feel iron & steel sticking into my side.

I told myself I got to do something. But what could I do? "God you got to help me!"

I prayed. "You got to show me a sign, miracle, give me a second chance. Please save my life!" My eyes were so caked with soil that tears could not come. "Lord just give me a 2nd chance & I promise I will do your will,'

I heard a beep-beep sound like a truck backing up. I called for help but no response. I could hear people talking on walkie-talkie, so I called out again & again. But still nothing.

Finally someone shouted back: Hello is somebody there?
"Yes, help me, my name is Genelle.
I could see a bit of daylight coming through a crack, so I stuck my hand through it. 'Can you see my hand? I yelled.
No!
I yelled again as I stretched my hand a far as I could.
But they still cannot find me. I lost consciousness.
When I woke, I could hear people above.
I prayed "Please God show me a miracle now."

I tried yelling again, but they still no one can locate me. So I stretched my hand as far as I could & this time someone grabbed it.
"Genelle, I've got you! You are going to be alright. My name is Paul. I won't let go of your hand until they got you out."

"Oh thank you God! Finally someone has found me. I tried to see who it was but I couldn't make out a face. Paul kept telling me I would be all right & I believed him. I kept his name in my head because I wanted to meet him when I got out to thank him.

I could hear men moving steel & concrete above. Finally 2 men took hold of my shoulders and Paul let go of my hand. They put me on a stretcher and then passed me hand to hand up & down a long line of people. I saw them all lining the path, everyone clapping.

Out of the 15 who had tried to escape, only 2 made it out.
I was the last survivor to be pulled out.

Sometimes I wonder about Paul, the man who held my hands and calmed me when I thought I couldn't go on. After I got out of hospital, a reporter interviewed me along with some of the men who rescued me. When I asked about Paul, they seemed puzzled.

"There's no one named Paul on our team." One of them assured me. But... "Someone was holding my hand for at least 20 minutes when you were digging me out. He told me his name was Paul. I kept reminding myself of his name because I wanted to thank him."
"I'm sorry, but nobody was holding your hand when we were removing the rubble.

Though my story had been told on Oprah, CNN, Guideposts & Time magazines, no one named Paul has ever stepped forward to take credit for rescuing me that day. But I know that Paul was God's answer to my prayer for a miracle, a messenger of his love in the midst of my pain."