A Different Kind of Same...

So I guess that yesterday was the 9 month "anniversary" of May 22nd.

Strange that I didn't realize that until this morning.

To be fair...things have been pretty busy around here...

All of the males have been sick and are on antibiotics...
I spent Tuesday traveling to Kansas City for my follow up (all good thank you God!)...
I couldn't carry a bag of groceries by myself until yesterday...
The dog impaled himself on a wire fence...
Homework and tests...
Basketball and tennis...
Coordinating a visit from Watoto....
Life blah blah life blah life.....

But I guess, in the healing sense, it's good I was able to "miss" the date and not focus on it.

But you know what's interesting?

(To me, anyways...)

Yesterday after I dropped the kids off at school I decided to take a drive around our old neighborhood.

I hadn't been there for at least a month...and my friend told me that the house going up on "our" lot was making some serious progress.

So I thought I'd scope it out.

Now.
The 'hood looks 231 billion times better than it did on May 23rd.
Or June 30th.
Or even August 2nd.

Compared to a "normal" neighborhood though.....
Well....
It still looks like it's been through some hideous traumatic event.

(imagine that)

Yes...there are quite a few houses that are finished and beautiful...
But they sit next to dirt-filled lots scattered with home-remains.

And the trees...
That's just sad.

So many are gone....and so many of the remaining ones are...well....

I think a lot of us have learned to identify a tree that has been through a tornado.
It's easy to tell if they're laying on the ground or have beautiful metal garland (made from bumpers or stair railings or only the dear Lord knows what) laced through them....

But even the "undecorated" ones aren't "normal" looking.

They are standing, but many be leaning weirdly.
They have some branches, but they are cut off close to the trunk.
There may be some "twigs" coming off, but they are obviously new

I don't know if I'm describing this very well....but if you've seen these trees, you know what I mean.
They are a very obvious sign that  MR. EF-5 WAS HERE!!!!

Anyway...that's what my the old neighborhood is full of.

Then there's "my" lot.

They are building it on the concrete footprint of our house...so it's sort of similar in shape...almost.
And it's in the same yard...almost.
And it's in the same neighborhood.....almost.

In other words....it's ALMOST the same, but it's some kind of weird alternate reality where things are similar enough to the original that you can recognize them...but different enough that you know it's NOT the same so you end up feeling...

Well...

Unsettled.

It's like when I walked into the "new" (and by new I mean completely rebuilt after the original was completely destroyed) Chick-Fil-A or the "new" Walmart.

It was familiar...it was the same store....but it wasn't the same place.

The flowers were on the tables....but they were different colors.
The greeter was at the door...but the door had moved to the right a few feet.
The produce section aisles were slanted...but in the opposite direction.

Unsettling.

So as I sat in my car and stalked took a quick peek at the house going up....
...I felt unsettled.

Where Bennett's windows should have been was only a roof...
....but the garage windows were the same.
Where our big bay window used to be was a blank wall....
....but the walk-out door was the same.
Where Ethan's whole room should have been was obvious attic-only space....
...but the front steps were still there.
Where the 3-trunked birch tree stood was now a 2-trunked tree....
....but it was in the right spot.
Where we once had a great backyard was mud and trash and no fence....
...but the deck door still opened up right to it.

And then there were the neighbors houses.

The ones that are completely gone....well...I'm almost used to that look.

But the ones that have been "repaired"...

Again.

They are almost the same, but they are not.
They are half siding instead of all brick...
or they are black instead of tan...
or they are stone instead of stucco.

It's the "almost-sameness" of them in the background of the "almost-mine" house that just completely throws me off.

I mean....
My exact same mailbox is there.
My house isn't.
My forsythia are blooming.
My entire garden is missing.

I will tell you that it IS a comfort to see A structure on that once-razed lot.
And I am sure it will be a beautiful house enjoyed by a wonderful family.

But I guess it was just a little bit of a shock to my system to see it be so similar/different to ours.

Maybe when we have our "forever home" that I can work on making into a real
real
true
real
HOME for us I won't have that "unsettled" feeling.

I know and feel and believe that our family is rooted in Christ...and that (as the song says):

On Christ the solid rock I stand
All other ground is sinking sand.

I do know this.

But I also have realized that I like making an earthly HOME for my family.

And since we aren't investing (financially emotionally time-wise) into our temporary place....I can't do that now.

Haven't been able to for a while.
(9 months and a day, in fact)

And that's ok.
Really.

But I am seriously looking forward to settling somewhere.

I would be such a bad wandering gypsy.

So...after all this rambling....I still think it's kind of interesting:

That I went back to the house on the 9 month anniversary.
That I came away feeling comforted andunsettled.
That I didn't drive straight to Shake's.

And maybe that's why...as I was driving past the ponds in front of our old neighborhood yesterday and saw all the yellow and orange-vested people cleaning out the tornado debris from the water...I didn't cry.

And maybe that's why...as I drove down 20th street today and saw strips of sheet metal wrapped around a tree....I did cry.

Healing is an up-and-down journey.
Make sure your seat belt is cinched tightly.

Moments and anniversaries and reminders will happen....
And they may surprise you.

You may find yourself crying when you find a piece of insulation-mixed-with-leaves in your jewelry box.
You may discover that you're unable to sleep when the winds are gusting.
You may decline buying a new purse and throw your friends into complete shock because you've discovered that you only need one.
You may realize that YOU can't sleep at night without giving your kids "one more hug".
You may find you have to leave a conversation in tears when someone re-tells a tornado story.
You may find you have to leave a conversation in tears when someone complains about stupid trivial issues.
You may find yourself sobbing at The Incredibles (see this blog post) or Star Wars movies (or this post).

It's ok, I guess.

Learning how to handle these completely random and unexpected emotional "slaps" will certainly help us learn how to deal with our teenagers one day.....right?

Healing and growing, I think, happen together.

And they are both good things.

Ad I don't think it's wrong to want to be settled in our "earthly" life....
as long as my root reaches a lot lot lot deeper.

And I think that Shake's was meant for anniversaries...
and since I kind of missed yesterday....
I can go have some tonight.

Hole Hearted...

Sometimes we have a LOT going on.

Sometimes it's all fun and hectic and busy and crazy and good.

Sometimes it's nothing but  MONSTER WAVES that aren't so helpful.

Sometimes maybe it's a combination?

I believe that the "not-so-good" things are often-sometimes-always the things that I HAVE to thank God for.

Those are the things that grow me.
Sharpen me.
Refine me.

And...believe it or not (insert self-depracating smile here)...apparently I need some serious refinement.

There's a song my friend Tiffany introduced me to called Blessings.

(such an amazing song....so worth your time to click on it and check it out...)

The chorus says:

What if your blessings come through teardrops?
What if your healing comes through tears?

What a beautiful poignant idea.

Sometimes it's only when you're bowed over....
Sometimes it's only when you can't even see through your tears....
Sometimes it's only when you truly realize what can be lost...

...that your faith and dependence and love for God can fill you and go all the way through you.

Then....
when we can truly find that eternal perspective....
those painful thorns can become amazing blessings.

SO I choose to see my procedure this Friday as a blessing.

This procedure is one of those "never-thought-it-would-happen-to-me" kind of things.

But hey...didn't many of use experience that last May?

(((Note to self....whenever I hear the phrases: "slim possibility" or "small chance" or "very low probability" I should automatically brace myself for what's 100% DEFINITELY coming my way.)))

Anyway....Friday morning I have a hot date in Kansas City with a highly respected surgeon who is going to close a pesky little hole in my heart.

Once this patch is in place (and it will be done via my femoral vein) I should have a waaaaay lessened risk of a recurrent stroke.

Yeah, that's right.
Stroke.
Mini one.
Called a TIA.
Back in August.

Apparently it's not a normal good thing to loose all feeling in exactly one half of your body while making your bed.
And it's surely not normal to pay an emergency visit to a neurologist at Memorial Hall (which was partitioned off by shower curtains) because your hospital was attacked by a tornado.
And it's definitely a rare experience to have an MRI in a tent MASH unit.
Then follow all of that up with many many many tests (in 3 different states) in which you are told "it probably isn't....we doubt we'll find....it's very rare that...." and give everyone a good old fashioned surprise.

It is.
It was.
Get me a lottery ticket please!!

My dad and stepmom are coming in town this week.  My dad will go with me to KC and my amazing stepmom will hold down the fort here.

I've told my kids that I have to have a little patchwork done and tried to get them really pumped up about their grandparent's visit.

I'll stay one night in the hospital and be home some time Saturday.

Then we'll see what the recovery is like.

The nurse said that I couldn't do housework for a week.
I'm sure she meant to say a month.

So....what have I learned from this latest season in my life?

(Besides brushing up on my knowledge of cardiac circulation, patent foramen ovales and Amplatzer devices?)

Any semblance of control in this life I once thought I had is an illusion.
My house,
my home,
my children,
my finances,
my health...

None of them are really under my control.

I have to let go.
I have to stop grabbing for them.
I have to realize that only God
only God
Only God
ONLY GOD
has control over all of this.

And you know what I'm so happy about?

He is SO MUCH better at EVERYTHING than I am.

At the risk of making a huge understatement:
it really truly is better for Him to be in charge because He really knows what He's doing.

The lot is cast into the lap,
But it's every decision is from the Lord.
Proverbs 16:33


"The horse is prepared for the day of battle,
But deliverance is of the Lord."
Proverbs 21:31


These verses bring me such a sense of relief.
At the end of the day....
He's got it under control.

So I've got a hole in my heart.
So my blood really likes to go through the hole.
So it likes to flow both ways.

None of this is a surprise to God.
He made me like this....
He gave me tests and doctors and a father who know a way to fix it...
He knows what's best for me and my family...
He knows how to love my children better than I could ever even try...

It's all good.
It's all going to be good.

Giddy up.

Remember THIS SONG??
(go ahead, click it, you know you want to!)

It's become my (Ally McBeal-ish to date myself)  in-my-head-constantly-personal-theme-song.

It's funny. 
Admit it.
In a twisted sort of way.

But hey....if the hole shoe fits......

:)

Don't Get Stuck....

I am certain that New Year's Day brings about TONS of declarations and posts and tweets and heaven only knows what other kinds of statements regarding resolutions and things everyone wants to do in the coming year.

I don't really want to do that in my blog today.

(Happy New Year, anyway.)

Sure....we did our family resolutions before going to bed at 10:15 (because....as we told the kids....we celebrate New Year's on Berlin time) and drank sparkling apple juice and ate gooey butter bars....we aren't total grinches.  

One thing we did do that I thought was cool was kind of Ethan's idea.

You see...a few years ago Ethan asked to make two cakes for New Year's Eve.
He wanted to decorate one that was a "good-bye to 2007" theme,
and make the other a "hello to 2008" cake.

So we did.

This year he asked to do the two-cake-thing again.

Fine.

But then we sent one of the cakes to my sister-in-law's get-together and ended up with only one cake at the house.

(And in all honesty....I really didn't want to mix frosting and do intricate time-consuming memorial decorations.)

So we switched it up a bit.

The kids, RH, my mom and I made little paper flags.

Then everyone drew or wrote about what they were saying good-bye to in 2011 on the first side, and what they were looking forward to in 2012 on the other side.

With a little scotch tape and some chopsticks the pieces of paper turned into flags.

We took turns explaining our drawings for both years....

....then ate cake (yes....before we ate the gooey butter bars) and moved on.

(You might notice that while most of the flags include a tornado theme for 2011, only Bennett's includes a political commentary as well.  Again....who is this kid?!?)

Moving on is good.  

It's nice to move on.

Seriously.

But...( and you KNEW that a "but" was going to be coming here...)

isn't it strange how even when you REALLY want to move on....

you also don't really want to let go?

Kind of like....if you really and completely move on and get past something....

you might somehow forget what it is you're getting past?

And while no one wants to become totally enmeshed in and re-live tragic points of their lives....there exists a very real fear of forgetting the true enormity of the event that has contributed to the person you are (and the world you live in) today.

I am reading a book my mom gave me for Christmas called The Beach Trees by Karen White.  

It takes place in New Orleans and there are many references to Katrina and what she did to the city.

The main character is from out-of-town and is having a hard time understanding why...6 years later... residents are still talking about the storm and have memorial pieces of "Katrina trees" and debris all over the city.

She thinks that people would be happier just getting rid of all the "left-overs and scars" and just focusing on the good things and the future.

A lady from New Orleans takes her to a memorial site, and this main character is very uncomfortable being there and asks the lady why she brought her there.   

The lady explains: "I wanted you to understand that moving on doesn't mean forgetting."

Yeah.

Don't forget.

Don't let the events of May 22nd....and the months following....lose their meaning.

Don't let the memories control your life...but don't be afraid to remember them.

I don't think God makes beauty  out of disaster so that we can forget the disaster.

I think He does it to show us how high He can make us rise after we fallen to a rocky bottom.

And if we forget how low and bad and hard and scary that "bottom" was....

then how can we realize how magnificent and amazing our new heights and perspectives truly are?

Last night, between the flags and the butter bars, Bennett shared something with us.

He has a devotional book called Jesus Callingwhich has a little "note" that Jesus might have written to you for each day of the year.

On May 22, here is what the "note from God" said:

When things are not going your way, don't panic--accept the situation.  Feeling sorry for yourself can easily spill over into feelings of resentment and anger.  Thant can cause you to push away from me.

Remember that I use all things to work together for good in your life--even the things you wish were different.  So accept your situation, and then look around you for what I am doing.  Keep your eyes on Me--no matter what is happening around you...

I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  But sometimes it can be hard for you to understand My way of doing things in this life.  It's easy to get your mind stuck on your own idea of how things should go.  Just don't get so stuck on your idea that you forget to look for My way.

He has a way.

He doesn't say forget...He says trust Him.

It's a new year.

A symbolic new start.

I think I will choose to move forward....and focus on how good things are....as well as remembering (with utmost gratefulness) the things He's lifted me up from...to give me such beautiful perspective on my life.

You Better Not Pout....

A few years ago I found a set of "Christmas Classics" DVD's. 

In it were movies from way back when I was a kida few years ago like:

Rudolph

Frosty

Santa Claus is Coming to Town

Little Drummer Boy

You know....all those kind of cheesy not really animated but weird puppet-esque characters? 

Where....if you remember....somebody always breaks into song and then strange psychedelic hand drawn cartoons float across the screen?

(Please....for the love of Pete....tell me that I'm not the only one who grew up LOVING these movies and scouring the TV Guide until we found the "specials" then staying up late to watch them????)

Anyway, out of the 5 boxes of Christmas things I dragged out of the warehouse these DVD's made it to our new home.

So last night after the kids and I ate dinner (RH went to bed early with a hunting head cold) I told them that I had a SPECIAL surprise in store.

I turned on the fire and made some hot chocolate (and Earl Gray Latte's for myself and my 11 year old (who is actually a 59 year old stuck in an 11 year old body)) and popped in Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

At first the kids looked at me with raised eyebrows as the animated Fred Astaire dude started singing and waltzing with bunnies.

But.....they got into it.

Seriously.  They were giggling and Ethan even asked why the Winter Warlock was so darn mean.

And all four us...with the two dogs...sat cuddled on our built in carpeted couch.

I had one arm around Ethan and one around Carolyn with a big blanket over us.

Rigby (the wolfhound) had her head in Ethan's lap, and Bennett (who is too cool to sit next to me but not yet too cool to watch Christmas specials with me thank God) laid his head on Rigby's back while Jake (the lab) had his head on Bennett's legs.

Good thing the sunken couch is in a 'C' shape.

It was dark and the fire was flickering and the only other lights came from the TV and the Christmas tree.

Then on the screen Kris Kringle announced his decision to deliver gifts on Christmas Eve because that was the day of the year that love came to earth as a little baby in Bethlehem.

"He means Jesus," Carolyn informed me without taking her eyes from the moving puppets.

And as I looked at her,

and Ethan....

and Bennett...

and even the dogs...

I quietly lost it.

I'm talking 

lips quivering

tears flowing

trying not to move

thankful kids are immersed in movie

lost it.

I was SO

SO

SO

SO

overwhelmed by gratefulness.

Yes....I was grateful for a Christmas-y night in our home...complete with fire, cocoa, tree and Santa movie.

Yes...I was grateful that my 5 year old recognized that Jesus is the biggest gift we've ever gotten.

Yes...I was grateful for all of those things....TRULY.

But honestly (and have I ever been anything else!??!?)?

My mind went to how easily our little gathering could have been changed that night back in May.

How we could have been missing one (or more) of those kids.

How those kids might have been missing me.

How even the dog could have not been here.

So I wonder....am I obsessed with the stupid tornado?

I don't think so.

I function reasonably well......or at least fake functioning reasonably well.

I don't bring it up in conversations every day.

(yes...it does feature in all of my blog posts but anyone who doesn't want to "hear" that kind of talk can simply and effectively click their way to happy-land!)

I don't ask for privileges or concessions because I am a "victim".

I get myself and family around to planned events....sometimes I even take charge of these events!...and usually everyone even has on clean underwear.

But the thoughts (or memories) are always there.

Hiding behind a corner.

Barely beneath the surface.

Lurking quietly in the background.

Ready to surprise you without warning.

--Sometimes all it takes is a drive across town when you have to see the huge pieces of metal still wrapped around bark-less trees.

--Sometimes it's reaching for your huge container of chili powder that you KNOW you have only to remember that you don't have the stupid chili powder anymore.

--Sometimes it's receiving a Christmas letter from a relative who devotes a portion of it to the Joplin tornado.

--Sometimes it's an innocent question from your kids about "Why don't we have the Christmas mugs out this year" and you have to answer them that you don't know whether or not you still have the mugs because they MIGHT be crammed in the bottom of the warehouse or they MIGHT be broken in the warehouse or they MIGHT be in a neighboring town.

--Sometimes it's watching your daughter and niece play "Tornado" and run for cover under the chairs.

--Sometimes it's.....well....for no reason at all.

And then....well, I'm taken aback by the sudden rush of emotions that come to me.

Sometimes fear.

Sometimes anger.

Sometimes (ok...lots of time) confusion.

Sometimes gratefulness.

I like that last one a LOT more than the others.

I went to an amazing Christmas party last week.

There must have been close to 75 people there, and the food was wonderful, the decorations were amazing, the music was beautiful and the night was all kinds of festive.

But....by the end of the evening...every group I spoke with was immersed in "Where were you/what were you doing/what is your story" conversations about May 22nd.

EVERY SINGLE GROUP.

So....maybe it's not just me?

I've had several people tell me that this blog speaks to them because they sometimes feel similar things to what I've expressed.

So let me express THIS.....

That is so wonderful to hear.

That is so comforting.

It really makes me feel less-crazy.

I have been praying that I will only write the things that God wants me to write....and the fact that I'm being given the reassurance by friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers that I am not alone in some of these things is a blessing beyond words.

So to those of you who have taken the time to tell me that?

Thank you.

It truly means more to me than you can imagine.

And if I only had my Christmas mugs....I would ask you to come have some Christmas cheer with me.

Maybe next year?

Shifted Foundations

Six months ago today we said good-bye to my dad and stepmom and they headed back toward Atlanta.

Six months ago today we went to church.

Six months ago today I traded my sister-in-law a daughter for two nephews and went home to get ready for my son's 11th birthday party.

Six months ago today 4 boys played in the sprinklers in the yard while I made vanilla buttercream frosting.

Six months ago today I agreed with my father-in-law that we should move the party to our house instead of their pool because the weather might get yucky.

Six months ago today I asked my husband to take the boys to my in-laws for a quick swim so I could get the house ready.

Six months ago today two of the boys came back with my mother-in-law.

Six months ago today we ignored a tornado siren and sat in the kitchen eating chips and dip.

Six months ago today the sky got really black and I called my husband's uncle and asked him how close he and our aunt were with my son and nephew.

Six months ago today the kids and our friends went down in the basement when the second tornado siren began wailing.

Six months ago today I stood in the doorway to my garage and stared up the street looking for a truck.

Six months ago today the world began spinning around us and my ears popped over and over.

Six months ago today I yelled at my family to get into the storage room and sprinted down the stairs with my dog.

Six months ago today I heard our house being ripped apart as I leaned over children in our basement.

Six months ago I placed my son and nephew and aunt and uncle and father-in-law into God's hands.

Six months ago today God gave me tangible proof of what a better caretaker He is of my family than I could ever be.


So much has happened.
So much has changed.
So much I've forgotten.
So much still confuses me.

But....
So much inspires me.
Warms me.
Touches me.

Six months ago we said good-bye to a lot of different things:
...our old home
...our old neighborhood
...my short term memory
...my 8 year-old's easy going nature
...my 11 year old's ability to let US be caretakers and HIM just feel taken care of
...enjoyment of summer rainstorms
...my ability to get through a day without crying.


But six months ago we were introduced to a new way of living:
...that is based on people and not places
...where I only need LITERALLY one pair of jeans and some sneakers
...when giving one more hug and one more story truly matter more than my schedule
...when the presence of God actually feels like a blanket over my shoulders
...where when if I decide to have a latte and a scone with a friend instead of going for a run I actually feel I made the better choice
...that is rooted more firmly in God instead of my worldly surroundings.


Now I have certainly had quite a few experiences since May 22nd that I did not really expect to have this summer this fall this lifetime:
We lived with my mom for a few weeks....
I personally helped bulldoze my home...
We bought two houses...
I saw the president...
We got a puppy...
I learned how to tell if clothing had insulation in it by how it felt on my arms in the first 30 seconds...
I saw Barry Manilow...


Priority shifting.
Life changing.
Faith building.
Sleep ruining.
Perspective turning.

Quite a busy six months, I'd say.

Our house was totaled partly because it had a cracked and shifted foundation.
Hmmmmm.
Rather poetic, don't you think?
I will venture to say that 6 months ago.....
more foundations shifted than just the one on our house.

My eldest son says that one thing the tornado has done for him is make him pray more.
I'll second that.

I know I felt God so so very close to me right after that storm....and definitely in those first few weeks when I ran on nothing but adrenaline and coffee.

He was so present.

I realize He's always present....but when we are blatantly open and raw and stripped of all defenses....then He can move in close.

And He did.

And He was.

Now....as I move on into a new normal....I don't always feel Him quite as closely.

Is He still around?

Ummmmm.....YES.

Absolutely.

Without a doubt.

It's just me who's let all my "life junk" get in between me and Him.

I miss it.

Now don't get me wrong....I certainly don't miss the psycho-chaotic-confusing-emotional-mindbender that those first few weeks (or can I be honest?  First few months is probably more appropriate.) brought....but I miss that closeness and utter/complete dependence.

How very very lucky I was to be able to experience that without experiencing an enormous devastating loss.

And although there are so so so so so so so so so many things I can't seem to remember from these past six months....
I won't forget how it felt to have His arm around me and hear His voice in my ear.

And because of the gift I've been given....the gift of shifted priorities and changed perspectives.....I can work toward that closeness again. 
I can build my firm foundation from the ground up.

Hopefully it wont take 200+ mph winds to shove me into His arms....

Boxes...

So for the last few days everyone has been telling me (and when I say everyone I mean at least one (if not two or three) random or different people each day) that the 6 month tornado anniversary time-period is going to be really tough for people.

My mom the nurse has given me articles with all kinds of experts backing this fact up with suggestions on how to cope.

People in the grocery store line have graciously warned both me and fellow customers that its going to "really suck" for some of Joplin when the 6 month mark hits and "they" realize that their lives are still not put back together.

Electronic "change-screen billboards" around town are informing Joplin about a memorial service on
 11-22-11, then following up with a "When You Need Mental Health Help" screen.

(So...6 months.
100 days.
Haven't I had a post like this before????)

Here's my observation on this.

Time goes on.

Every day things become a little easier......overall.

I say overall, because interspersed in that gradual upward emotional climb are some jagged downward peaks.

Now.

Conventional wisdom (including mental health experts, Biblical wisdom and life experience) says that with the passage of time.....hurt eases.

This is true, to some extent.

However, there is something a little different that happens when the main event involves a TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCE.

You see....God created our minds and bodies in a really amazing way.

He gave us this incredible substance called adrenaline to get us through crazy experiences.

He also gave us the ability to completely block things out of our memories until our minds are able to process them.....allowing us to "compartmentalize"---or tuck certain emotions away into little internal boxes and keep them closed for an indefinite amount of time.

When a traumatic event occurs....there are too many BIG things that happen to you all at once.

You can't mentally/emotionally/physiologically handle all of these things.

So....you deal with the immediate surface issues and hide the rest of the things away.

By things I mean: visual memories, hard conversations, emotional memories, physical pain, unanswerable questions etc. 

In fact, you become kind of numb....operating on a sort of auto-pilot to get through each day/hour/week.

BUT......at some point, the numbness starts to wear off.
And apparently....6 months is pretty key to this.

(And yes...I realize that "6 months" or "183ish days" are nothing but man-made numbers....but God DID give us these numbers (and hence the time frames) for some reason!)

So I was thinking about when I first came out of my house and was trying to find out if the neighbors were ok.

One of my dearest friends lives lived on the street behind me, and I remember as we walked that way, asking people if they had seen her family.  I could see where the top of her house has been....and I knew they had been hit.  But I wasn't screaming or panicking....just asking.  Then someone said they had seen both her and her husband and that her family was ok.  Then we went on to check on other neighbors.

So...as I was remembering this story...i had a stab of bitter cold sickening fear slice through my stomach.  It literally made me gasp.  My shoulder and neck muscles tightened to the point of pain......then it all went away.

I think.....that was the fear I wanted to feel that night.  That was the true abject huge fear that something horrible had happened to my friend and/or her family when I saw their house. 

Going to church yesterday Ethan was talking about the windstorm we'd had the night before and said how glad he was it didn't turn into a tornado.

(NO FLIPPING DOUBT BUDDY.)

Then he looked at me and said, "I am really glad I didn't die in that tornado, Mom,"  and started talking about the cardboard swirling past Uncle Frank's truck that night and when his head (and elbow??) were bleeding from the stupid stop sign that smashed through the back window.

Again....my stomach clenched up.  Tears came.  My upper body tensed to the point of spasm.....and it stopped.

Again...I think that was some of the fear I should have felt that night. 

May 22nd was NOT the time to feel or deal with that fear....there were too many things to DO.

So maybe....now that some of the numbness is wearing off....and we (as a city?) are stabilizing and recreating our sense of home....God is allowing our minds to let go of some of the feelings they have been holding in all of those boxes for the last 6 months. 

It's probably a good thing to open those and let the feelings and memories out. 
I am reasonably sure my brain doesn't have enough storage space for all of that anyway.

As long as I (we?) remember that each and everyone of those boxes is wrapped in IMMENSE GRATEFULNESS.....

Then one-by-one God can help me empty them.....
Break the boxes down....
And get rid of them.

But...I think I'd like to save the wrapping paper.