Imagine yourself on a peaceful day in May.
You go to Home Depot, there's something you need to buy.
It starts to storm a bit; you're grateful to be inside.
You take your time. You get distracted, and run into someone you know. After awhile the music pauses-- it's a song you've heard too many times anyways-- and it's announced that there's a tornado warning. The voice on the speaker is trying to make up for the tornado sirens that you couldn't hear.
You don't think too much of it (it's not like it hasn't happened before) but soon after they tell you to line up against the walls. They're solid, concrete. You figure that if there is a tornado, they'll definitely protect you.
A tornado does, in fact, come. You can hear it approach, loud and destructive, as you wait. You can't help but to feel afraid. It's like a huge train, roaring towards you as you stand in the middle of the tracks.
Objects in the building start to shake. You cover your head, hoping to protect yourself from any falling objects. But then you hear a crash. You look-- you need to know what's going on, you're terrified-- and you see a huge metal beam, falling, collapsing, it's coming straight towards you--
* * * * *
On Tuesday we toured the path of the tornado. Some of it was practically just fields-- empty fields. If you looked at the sky there were no trees, only telephone poles in places that were once filled with homes.
The owner of the house we're working on, Rick, was in our van as we drove around. He was telling us stories about the tornado-- people who survived, and people who didn't. There was something to the way he spoke that other people had when they told us about the tornado. They think of it as horrible, something that never can be forgotten, but I can also tell that they realize it happened, and it won't go away. And that they're alive, and that in itself is extremely lucky.
I remember one woman talking a bout how much the huge, old trees at Cunningham park meant to the town. I was thinking about how they probalby never actually thought about that-- those old trees-- until after the tornado. It's the whole idea that we don't know what we have until we lose it.
The story about the Home Depot really struck me. People walked in there, with some everyday intention, but then... they never came out. I don't know the exact details, but I've learned some of it. Cars from the parking lot apparently flew up onto the roof and basically broke it. It and the walls basically collapsed.
How terrifying that must have been for those people. They just never came out. Whatever they'd been buying, whatever they wanted to do with it...
They didn't.
I dedicate this post to them, and to all of the other people who lost lives, loved ones, property, houses... anything to do with the tornado.
On a completely different note, I wanted to add that I'm having a lot of fun this mission trip. Today, especially, was awesome. I bought my 5 dollar Harry Potter t-shirt, I had humus, I had pie, we walked around the mall, I went swimming... more good things than I can count happened, and that makes me really happy.
Lian
