Perspectives (part 2)

In my last post, I ended by talking about prayer.  Prayer during a storm.  Storms happens frequently in this part of the country (especially this year, in this particular spot.)  Since I'm talking about perspectives, I'll let you in on a little secret:

Everybody has one--a perspective, that is.

 And it's different, not only from person to person, but also from time to time.  An overweight mother of four does not have the same perspective that a skinny, single, college girl has.  Does that make one of them wrong?  Not necessarily.  That makes them different.

The sticky thing you get into with perspectives is when you decide that someone else is wrong because of the perspective they have.  Some call it judgement, but I call it not holding your tongue.  "Just because you can say something (and it might be truthful), doesn't mean you should say something."

It seems as though everyone and their grandmother have an opinion about these storms, about the storm chasers, about those who lost everything, about the teachers who prayed.  No problem.  Does everyone need to share those opinions with the ones who just went through this horrible tragedy?  Not so much.

I'm going to give a little rebuttal to some of the things I've heard in the last couple of weeks.
(Disclaimer: I am writing this from my perspective....on the fringe.  I haven't lost everything.  I didn't lose a loved one.  This time, I didn't even have any damage. But my friends did, and these are some things I learned by listening--not talking--to them.)

For the teacher who prayed: Good for you!  Not because you went "against the rules about prayer in schools", but because you protected those kids to the best of your ability.  You didn't force your students to pray (as if there was time for that!), and you didn't lose your job because of it (contrary to the unbelievable Internet rumor spreading wildly.)

For those who would protest at a child's funeral:  I won't mention you by name because that would just give you the publicity you desire (even though there's only 3 people who read this blog.)  What you are doing does not accomplish anything.  You are not what you say you are, and you turn others toward your hate by inciting them to anger.  I wish I could say that I would be the one to give a cup of cold water in the name of Christ, but I'm afraid that I would only accomplish your purpose, not God's, if I ever meet any of you.  All I can do is pray for you--that you don't turn anyone else to hate with your religion.

For those who criticize people who live here:  You've obviously never weathered a storm of any kind.  While these storms are the most brutal thing nature can bring, they also bring something amazing--the helpers.

There is nothing that can swallow you up with both pride and humility at the same time as being approached by a stranger who says, "I am here to help you."  There are those who do this for a "living" like the policemen, firemen, and military; and there are some who stop what they are doing just to make sure their neighbor is okay.  ALL of them come together, work together, and accomplish great things together for the benefit of someone other than themselves.  You should try it sometime--putting someone else before yourself--it is truly an amazing thing.

For those who come to sightsee:  Go home! If you are here to help cleanup, thank you, but please put your cameras away.  If someone wants to take pictures of their destroyed home so they have a memorial of what they survived, they have that right.  And, while you have the right to take pictures of their stuff, it is incredibly tacky to film their loss for your pleasure.  I know the devastation is incredible, and it is hard to turn your eyes away when it stretches as far as you can see.  Please don't take for granted, though, that this is someone else's home turned inside out.  If you wouldn't normally see it driving down the street, don't take pictures of it laying out in their neighbor's yard.

For those who criticize the weatherman: Storms like this cover miles and miles.  They damage or destroy thousands and thousands of homes, businesses, and sometimes schools.  Every single life lost is a tragic thing, but if you look at the storm's path, it is truly unbelievable that there weren't more lives lost.  Truly.  Had it not been for the scientists, the weather reporters, and the storm chasers that number could have been so much higher.  And, while I know the feeling I get in my gut when there's going to be a bad storm, and I know the look of the sky when the clouds get black and start to swirl; there is no way I could warn others on where to go, how bad it might be, or what direction it's heading.  That's why I listen to someone else with a more experienced perspective.

For those who want to introduce immediate legislation to get everyone a shelter less than 24 hours after a storm (and this is where I'm probably going to make people mad): It's not the government's job to get everyone a shelter.  When you live in this part of the country, you have to make choices based on what is important to you.  Do storms like this happen every week, every month, or every year?  No.  These storms are rare, but they do incredible damage.  From my perspective, this is another opportunity for neighbor to help neighbor.  If you have shelter, let someone else in.  It's as simple as that.  You have to decide if a shelter is worth the money you'll have to spend.  What is a life worth?  What is it worth if this only happens once every 10-15 years?

As far as the schools, those teachers are not to blame.  Neither are the administrators.  Nor the school board, builders, etc.  We learn from history.  Unfortunately, we learn when we lose lives.  These storms don't happen every day.  We also knew from the time we woke up that these storms were going to be bad.  While you can't keep your children home every time there's a risk, there are times you get to be the parent and override any other deadline you may have.  Some parents kept their kids home, some picked theirs up early, and some left their children there.  None are wrong.  Not even the ones who are now grieving.  They did the best they could, and they don't need our criticism or our suggestions right now.  They need our friendship and our love.  We'll learn from this, and maybe we'll make different decisions, but now is not the time.

Wow! This turned into a long post.  I'm guessing you probably get where I'm going with this.  During times like these, it's easy to have all the answers--especially when you're sitting hundreds of miles away. This isn't the first time this has happened, and I'm sure it won't be the last.   We don't need answers right now.  We need helpers, love, and a little time to make sure we keep things in the right perspective.

Perspectives (part 1)

Since most of the people who read this blog are friends of mine, you all know where I live.  Most everyone who doesn't live under a rock knows what happened on Sunday and Monday.  Something that happens when you live in this part of the country--tornadoes.  Since then, I've seen all kinds of posts: from "what are they thinking..." to "why don't they..."  to "don't mess with us".  I'm here to tell you that people have all kinds of different perspectives when it comes to events like this.  These are some that I've seen, some that are my own, and some that come from some wise friends of mine.  

First, a little history....

I was born in Pueblo, CO, but I have lived 30 of my 35 years in Oklahoma (3 of the other 5, I lived in Kansas--another state in "tornado alley") so I have experienced my share of severe weather.  Four tornado events have made an impact on my memories so I base most of my tornado knowledge on those.  The first was when I was in 1st or 2nd grade.  I do not know exactly when it was or how powerful.  I know it hit in Ardmore, OK where we were gathered with another family in their hallway.  Their daughter was dropped off from a school event, and she received a nasty gash on the head when she fell over a fence that had been flung into their yard.  But, she did make it in safely, and their house did not sustain any damage.

The second tornado that made an impact on my life was on May 3, 1999.  I lived and worked in Blanchard, OK at the time, and I watched the storm from the south as it tracked across the county.  I had friend living in Bridge Creek, Newcastle, and Moore at the time, and it completely rocked our little communities.  A young man that was a good friend stopped by my house a few days later.  He had first aid training so he had volunteered in Bridge Creek, only to be put to work in the makeshift morgue.  He stopped by to "talk" and tell me about some of the things he had seen, and he wept as he recounted the stories.  Thankful that God had shown me this young man's heart, I married him the very next year :)

The third tornado was only two short years ago (on this very day).  I blogged about it here.  After a day with lots of kiddos at my house, I was left with only my four children.  Thankfully, my father-in-law was also there to get into the cellar with me.  Seeing the tornado headed straight for us, we locked the door, prayed and waited.  When we emerged, we saw that it had taken a sharp right turn, missing us, but hitting our neighbors, friends, and family.  It's hard to describe how we can be thankful that something so powerful missed us but still so very heartbroken about the devastation to those who we love. Those are amazingly complex emotions.

This last tornado has also made a profound imprint on my life.  It dropped out of the sky just three short miles north of my Mom's house.  Once again, that complex mix of thankfulness and sadness are flooding my home.  We are close enough to be affected emotionally, but far enough that we weren't affected physically.  

Now for the perspectives:

This is my home, where I grew up, and where I make my life now.  I drive down the highway that first felt this monster on a weekly basis (my husband drives it on a daily basis.) As we follow its path, I see that it destroyed the place where my Mom used to work when we first moved to this town. I see that it narrowly missed the part of town where the Walmart, Braum's, my bank, the first place I held a job, and several other often highly populated areas (thankfulness, because it could have been so much worse.), but then it ripped through the homes that were sitting right behind those stores (sadness for those who were losing everything--possibly even loved ones.) I see that it ripped down the old bridge--the one that has stood for years, the one that we used to sneak onto when we would go out with the girls, the one that has been a landmark seemingly forever. I see that, as it passed over the current bridge, that it tossed cars off of it like they were children's toys. It's path traveled down 149th, "the shortcut to Moore", took out the farm where my daughter was at a field trip less than a week before (MAJOR thankfulness), and then it headed for more homes, one of which belonged to my very best friend, and still a list of others who lost their homes or sustained major and minor damage.  It tore through schools, neighborhoods, a hospital, and the movie theater.  It scattered debris along side streets, main streets, and across two major interstates.  And then, it just spun out...fizzled...gone....as quickly as it came.  And you turned around, and all you could see was destruction in its wake.  

That is my perspective.  How I saw it from the outskirts.  I imagine that the feelings were magnified 100-fold for those who had to ride it out in the closets, cellars, hallways, bank vaults, and even cars racing out of its path.  Minor damage or major damage, it would be absolutely terrifying to know that monster was heading in your direction.  People will be insensitive, derogatory, and questioning; but the fact is, until you've been in that situation, you can't tell anyone else what to do.  Yes, there are right things and wrong things, but sometimes the right things aren't available, so you have to do the next best thing.  Just ask the teachers that did the best that they could, but still lost their students.  Ask the family of the mother and child who sought shelter, but that shelter didn't protect them.  Everyone in the state of Oklahoma knows that you shouldn't try to outrun a tornado in your vehicle (except the storm chasers, but that's a whole different story!), but when a vehicle is all you have to get you out of the storm's path, then you do what you have to do.  

And you pray...

A school teacher is getting a lot of publicity for what she said about prayer in schools, but it's true.  When a storm is bearing down on you, you pray.  You pray OUT LOUD.  You pray until it's over.  And when it's done, if you're still around to pray, you pray some more.  Period. At least, that's how we do it here, in tornado alley, where the storms come.  

May in Oklahoma

"April Showers Bring May Flowers"  That's how the old saying goes.  In Oklahoma, though, April showers (or drought, depending on the year) bring May showers.  The bulk of our rain seems to come in May, and oftentimes, it comes with some pretty severe weather.  The state song of Oklahoma is "Oklahoma" from the musical, Oklahoma. (Very easy to remember!) Part of the song talks about how the "wind comes right behind the rain."  For anyone outside of the Oklahoma or the bordering states, that's a fancy, show-tunes way of saying, "When it rains, your gonna get some really nasty wind."

Rain + Wind = Tornado

Now, that's not the technical formula, but it's pretty close!  I've lived in Oklahoma most of my life, and I'm well-versed in tornado precautions.  I've been near them, and I've had close friends and family lose everything (including loved ones) because of them.  They are nothing to play around with.  And when you've lived in Oklahoma as long as me, everyone has their tornado story.  I have two--both with happy endings.  This is the second one:

On Tuesday, May 24th, I had 10 children in my daycare--four of my own children and six extras.  Since we are required to monthly tornado drills anyway, I decided to take them all out to the storm shelter.  I knew there was a chance of severe weather later in the day, and I wanted to be prepared. They did a great job, and actually thought it was pretty fun. 

As it got later into the afternoon, the forecasters started giving more intense and frequent updates, and parents began coming to pickup children.  Slowly, the ten dwindled down to six.  As the last dad came for his two boys, my father-in-law and mother-in-law came over prepared to head to the shelter.  Memaw came from next door too.  It was just minutes after the last child left that Poppy (my father-in-law) told us to head out.  Each child had an adult (plus one dog!) and we piled in just about the time our cousin arrived with her three children. 

Down into the storm shelter we went.  Poppy manned the door, and I was right next to him.  (I'm a little extremely claustrophobic.)  Being the true Okies that we are, we were waiting for the very last minute to shut the door.  As he and I looked out at the sky, we couldn't see this horrible monster that they said was coming our way.  We just saw a big black rain cloud.  It wasn't until we looked straight over our heads at the grey outer clouds spinning around that we realized that rain cloud WAS the tornado. 

We locked the door tight and listened. 

No hail.  No freight train. 

Our ears popped and we waited until the wind began to die down, and then we waited just a little more.  Poppy peeked out to see if it was safe to come out.  The storm was over.  As quickly as it had come, it was gone--off to continue its path of destruction.  The first sight we saw was another cousin's house:

Then there was the neighbor's shed:



So much damage in so little time.  We were spared.  Not only our lives, but also our home and vehicles.  Some were not.  Just a half mile down the road, some very dear friends lost all their worldly possessions, and they nearly lost their lives.  Thankfully, they are alive, but it will take a long time to heal and rebuild.  I cannot  fathom, nor do I even want to ask why. 

The storm took a path that spared some and destroyed some, but, in all of it, God is good.  He gave us each a place to be, a prayer to say, and a way to be a blessing to someone else.  Some bring chainsaws, some bring food, some bring water, and some take the children for the afternoon.  Strangers helping strangers, friends and family coming together to help, a community united around those who lost it all. 

It just makes me wonder how much better we could make the lives of those around us if we lived each day like it was the day after a tragedy like this.  What if we always prayed fervently for others?  What if we were willing to offer food, water or a change of clothes to someone in need?  What if we took a meal to our neighbors just because we wanted to be there for them?  How much would they see God every day--not just on the bad days?