Ahmed ElHattab, an Egyptian-born American Muslim living in Plainfield, was on a mission for Islam on Sept. 11, 2001.

He was in Europe, at a conference aimed at helping Muslims become better integrated into Western countries and at protecting their rights as a minority.

It didn't take long, after word came that it appeared the terrorists were Islamic extremists, to realize that his mission -- and the plight of American Muslims in general -- had just increased in difficulty in incalculable ways.

Aside from the blow to his cause and his faith, the attacks opened another wound in ElHattab, 50 at the time and living in America almost half his life. "As an American citizen," he said, "I felt hurt that my land, my nation, my country, was under attack by a very evil act."

And then there was ElHattab's concern for his wife, Amira Mashhour, who was home in Indiana more easily identifiable as a Muslim because of her traditional Muslim head covering, and their son Saleh, who was just 8 at the time. Such a violent act done in the name of Islam was sure to have repercussions.

Eventually, it would. But when Ahmed called home to Amira. he learned that their non-Muslim neighbors in Plainfield had been checking in with her to see if she was OK, if she needed anyone to accompany her when she went shopping. And if there was anything they could do. One person even left a box of chocolate and a note at their door.

Amira had been teaching that morning at a Muslim preschool, which sent the kids home early for safety. Saleh had seen the news at school but had dismissed the planes and the burning towers as merely "a video game." On her first venture out, a woman approached her in an Aldi parking lot, and Amira feared a confrontation. But the woman, a non-Muslim, said she merely wanted to say, "I love you." And offered a hug.

Amira burst into tears in the woman's arms. "It's just how Americans are," she said.

For many Americans, though not all.

In the weeks that followed 9/11, Amira would hear insults and the words "Go home" yelled at her. Someone left a burning sack of human feces on the family's doorstep. And Ahmed's workplace, the Islamic Society of North America, received phoned bomb threats and was subjected to a campaign aimed at painting the organization, one of the oldest and most diverse Muslim organizations in the country, as a front for terrorists.

That, despite the fact the government has sought the society's help on security matters, recruiting Arab speakers and outreach to Muslim communities. Its leaders have been repeatedly invited to The White House.

The ironies -- from the moment of the attacks to the present day -- are part of life after 9/11, the ElHattabs say. But all in all, they are hopeful -- in part because of the bridges Muslims have built since that day.

"It makes you amazed," Ahmed said, "at how this American heritage and American wealth of values and principles can face and stand firm against any storm of this nature."

To view a video diary of ElHattab and his family, please click here.