My undergraduate alma mater almost got wiped off the map last night. 80% of its dorms were either destroyed or severely damaged. The EF-4 tornado damaged or destroyed every building on campus, to one degree or another. And my niece was in the middle of it all.
My parents took custody of Morgan before she was a year old, so in some ways she’s more like the sister I don’t really know than the niece I don’t really know. We were raised by the same people in the same house. Mama thinks of her and her brother more like kids than grandkids. So did Daddy. They raised them and lived through all the trials that go with parenthood. (A ‘hood I have no intention of visiting.)
She’s ok, though. Just cuts, bruises and scrapes. She rode out the storm in the bathroom of her downstairs neighbors. She said that it got quiet, and then the walls started shaking. Then the roof came off, along with most of the second floor where she lived, and the water came pouring in.
Her car is missing. It got blown to God knows where. It was directly in the path, so it very well may be in the next county. I’m guessing she lost pretty much everything else. Mama drove down this morning to get her and take care of what they can, which isn’t much. They’re letting residents of a few building go in and retrieve what they can, but I she wasn’t in any of those. And I suppose that if she can find her car, she might or might not be able to get things out of it. Depends on the level of damage.
Tomorrow, she’ll get to go in with a police escort to the area where her room used to be. There’s no roof and some walls are missing. And since she was on the second floor, she will probably be able to get so far. The stairs or the landing could be unsafe, as well as the floors. Most likely, she’ll have to just look around in the yard and try to find something she recognizes.
God has a strange sense of humor. He does stuff like this to remind us of how fragile we are, of how tenuous our grasp on life is, of our physical mortality. In doing so, he wreaks havoc on our lives and takes everything we have. And then leaves us grateful to be alive.
Morgan is safe and sound. The future is uncertain, but it’s still there. What happens next week or the one after will work itself out in God’s good time.
For now, we give thanks for not-so-small miracles.
My parents took custody of Morgan before she was a year old, so in some ways she’s more like the sister I don’t really know than the niece I don’t really know. We were raised by the same people in the same house. Mama thinks of her and her brother more like kids than grandkids. So did Daddy. They raised them and lived through all the trials that go with parenthood. (A ‘hood I have no intention of visiting.)
She’s ok, though. Just cuts, bruises and scrapes. She rode out the storm in the bathroom of her downstairs neighbors. She said that it got quiet, and then the walls started shaking. Then the roof came off, along with most of the second floor where she lived, and the water came pouring in.
Her car is missing. It got blown to God knows where. It was directly in the path, so it very well may be in the next county. I’m guessing she lost pretty much everything else. Mama drove down this morning to get her and take care of what they can, which isn’t much. They’re letting residents of a few building go in and retrieve what they can, but I she wasn’t in any of those. And I suppose that if she can find her car, she might or might not be able to get things out of it. Depends on the level of damage.
Tomorrow, she’ll get to go in with a police escort to the area where her room used to be. There’s no roof and some walls are missing. And since she was on the second floor, she will probably be able to get so far. The stairs or the landing could be unsafe, as well as the floors. Most likely, she’ll have to just look around in the yard and try to find something she recognizes.
God has a strange sense of humor. He does stuff like this to remind us of how fragile we are, of how tenuous our grasp on life is, of our physical mortality. In doing so, he wreaks havoc on our lives and takes everything we have. And then leaves us grateful to be alive.
Morgan is safe and sound. The future is uncertain, but it’s still there. What happens next week or the one after will work itself out in God’s good time.
For now, we give thanks for not-so-small miracles.
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