As I was sitting outside this evening, enjoying the breeze, and looking at the stars, I noticed a new calm within myself. I felt peaceful for the first time since the tornadoes, and man, does that feel nice. Things aren't "finished", as we still have a lot of work to do, but I finally feel like I'm moving forward.
As I sat there watching the skies, I saw a shooting star, and took that as a sign that everything is going to be ok. I believe in signs, and I still wish on stars, so this has to be true. I know it's true. While some things within us may have changed with all we've been through, we're still the people we were before May 24th. Hopefully even better, and stronger. I still love this place where I live - love the openness, love the smells, the sounds, the people, this land. I love Oklahoma.
I know a whole lot of people who think this state is too cold, too hot, too flat, too windy, and it's all of the above, but no matter where I've wandered in my life, I've always ended up right back here. I think if you know where to look, the views in Oklahoma are breath taking - every bit as much to me, as what the oceans, and mountains are to others. I find quite a lot of beauty in the flat, sweeping plains, and in the gently rolling hills, in the wheat fields, and pastures full of cattle. I love the smell of fresh cut hay, freshly mown lawns, and newly plowed dirt. I love how the vast majority of the people here are friendly, and will wave, or give a nod when you pass them on the road. I love how neighbors help neighbors when there's a need. I love watching the lightening bugs in the summer, listening to the locust (cicada's) in the trees, walking through the pasture with my husband, and my dogs. I love sitting in the front yard, watching my granddaughters play, and laugh.
When I think about this place I call home, my heart swells, and sometimes I get teary eyed with thankfulness because I feel so lucky to be here. I've been a lot of places in my life, but this is the place I've always felt most at ease, most at peace, closest to God. So even though the tornadoes shook us up, and tore up some things, this place is still home, and we're staying put. We'll fight for it, like we always have during days long torrential downpours, weird hurricanes, droughts, ice storms, and all kinds of crappy weather, including tornadoes. We'll fight for it now, and we'll fight for it tomorrow, because this place is ours, and Dorothy was right: there's no place like home. And I believe it takes more than just a house, to make a home.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
It's not "just a tree"
It's not for me anyway. It's a symbol. It's a symbol of the beginning of mine, and my husbands life together - the beginning of the blending of our families into one. The beginnings of "home." I lovingly planted each, and every tree in our yard, watered them, fed them, tried to keep them strong. I fought gophers, grasshoppers, and the darn male dogs who did their own share of "watering." I threatened children, dogs, cows, and horses, and crossed fingers, and prayed during high winds, and hail. I nurtured them, and watched them grow.
Silly as it may sound, I love my trees. They're a part of my yard, my home, my family, my heart. They are living, breathing pieces of art in my yard, and I think they're beautiful. They give cool breezes, and shade in the summer, homes to the birds, a cozy spot for the hammock, and beauty to my yard. They give comfort to my soul. I love to hear the breeze blowing through the trees in the evenings, love hearing the night birds singing from their branches. I can lay in bed at night, or sit on the porch for hours listening to their songs. The trees sing their own kind of songs too - the swaying of the branches, the rustling of the leaves. It's a peaceful, comforting sound. It's the sound of home.
Being forced to cut down, and drag the trees from the canyon behind the house is bad enough. I love those trees, too. They're part of nature, part of our landscape, they block the winter winds, and they're my privacy screen. Those trees have been in the canyon for years, and years, so it's sad to see them have to come down, or dragged up, and away to be cut up, and burned. It's 100 times harder to have to cut up the trees in our yard, because I feel like they're a piece of me - a piece of my home.
So when you think it's silly for me to cry over a tree that was ravaged by the tornado, try to look at that tree through my eyes. Try to see it as the amazing, beautiful being it is. See it as part of my home. See it as something that's more than just a tree. .
Silly as it may sound, I love my trees. They're a part of my yard, my home, my family, my heart. They are living, breathing pieces of art in my yard, and I think they're beautiful. They give cool breezes, and shade in the summer, homes to the birds, a cozy spot for the hammock, and beauty to my yard. They give comfort to my soul. I love to hear the breeze blowing through the trees in the evenings, love hearing the night birds singing from their branches. I can lay in bed at night, or sit on the porch for hours listening to their songs. The trees sing their own kind of songs too - the swaying of the branches, the rustling of the leaves. It's a peaceful, comforting sound. It's the sound of home.
Being forced to cut down, and drag the trees from the canyon behind the house is bad enough. I love those trees, too. They're part of nature, part of our landscape, they block the winter winds, and they're my privacy screen. Those trees have been in the canyon for years, and years, so it's sad to see them have to come down, or dragged up, and away to be cut up, and burned. It's 100 times harder to have to cut up the trees in our yard, because I feel like they're a piece of me - a piece of my home.
So when you think it's silly for me to cry over a tree that was ravaged by the tornado, try to look at that tree through my eyes. Try to see it as the amazing, beautiful being it is. See it as part of my home. See it as something that's more than just a tree. .
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
After Thoughts
It's been pretty hard getting a handle on the emotional aspects of this thing. I could never have imagined how something like that would affect me, and the people around me. One good thing that came from it though, is a new appreciation for things we've always taken for granted. I don't think it's something we'll ever get over, because it's left scars I can't even begin to explain. It's left me feeling more vulnerable than I ever have before, but that might not be a bad thing in the long run. Like I said before - there's a lesson here, and I think it's for all of us.
I think part of the lesson is to never take anything for granted, whether it be material things, or the people around you. You never really know what you'll miss, or how much you'll miss it, until it's not there anymore.
I've heard it asked, why God would allow something like this to happen. I don't think God allowed it. It just is. But I have no doubt God had His hand on us - that's why we're still here. And if he did allow it, maybe it was a wake up call. I know it woke me up.
I had a lot of trouble believing in God for a long time, and had it not been for my grandmother, I'm not sure I would believe at all. My grandmother always had a way of explaining things, and putting them in perspective so even I could understand them, when I was young. She died in the hospital one time, but came back. She told me afterwards, she went to Heaven, and God spoke to her. He told her it wasn't her time yet - that she still had something to do on earth. She was very sad about this, and asked me: "What did I do that God doesn't want me?" If you could have seen the look on her face, and heard the quiver in her voice when she asked me this, it would have broken your heart, right along with mine. I told her, it wasn't that God didn't want her - there was just something left here for her to do, and several months later, my youngest son died in a repelling accident. It was my grandmother's faith, and words of comfort that helped my family and I get through that horrific time in our lives. Six months later, my grandmother passed away. Her job was done, and God took her home.
I can still hear my grandmother's words of wisdom, and I'm so thankful I had her in my life. She was a wonderful teacher, the best of friends, and the most God loving, faithful person I have ever known. Without the guidance she gave me through my early years, I wouldn't have the faith I have today. That faith has gotten me through a lot, especially lately, and I thank her, and love her so much for that. Her faith, and God's love. What more could I need?
I think part of the lesson is to never take anything for granted, whether it be material things, or the people around you. You never really know what you'll miss, or how much you'll miss it, until it's not there anymore.
I've heard it asked, why God would allow something like this to happen. I don't think God allowed it. It just is. But I have no doubt God had His hand on us - that's why we're still here. And if he did allow it, maybe it was a wake up call. I know it woke me up.
I had a lot of trouble believing in God for a long time, and had it not been for my grandmother, I'm not sure I would believe at all. My grandmother always had a way of explaining things, and putting them in perspective so even I could understand them, when I was young. She died in the hospital one time, but came back. She told me afterwards, she went to Heaven, and God spoke to her. He told her it wasn't her time yet - that she still had something to do on earth. She was very sad about this, and asked me: "What did I do that God doesn't want me?" If you could have seen the look on her face, and heard the quiver in her voice when she asked me this, it would have broken your heart, right along with mine. I told her, it wasn't that God didn't want her - there was just something left here for her to do, and several months later, my youngest son died in a repelling accident. It was my grandmother's faith, and words of comfort that helped my family and I get through that horrific time in our lives. Six months later, my grandmother passed away. Her job was done, and God took her home.
I can still hear my grandmother's words of wisdom, and I'm so thankful I had her in my life. She was a wonderful teacher, the best of friends, and the most God loving, faithful person I have ever known. Without the guidance she gave me through my early years, I wouldn't have the faith I have today. That faith has gotten me through a lot, especially lately, and I thank her, and love her so much for that. Her faith, and God's love. What more could I need?
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Survivors of the storm
Although sometimes it feels like it, I know I'm not alone in my feelings in the aftermath of the tornado's. There are days I wonder if things will ever be the same again, and I'm sure they won't. How could they be? There are days I wonder if I can bear looking at all the devastation one more time, because it's all so heart wrenching. Some days I don't want to leave the house, because it's my safety net, but yet, in some ways, I don't feel safe here anymore. Being in the path of a tornado has a way of making you feel very small, very weak, and very mortal. Something like that shakes you to your core, and makes you look at things a lot differently. It makes you realize you are very small in the grand scheme of things, because a tornado doesn't care who you are, what you look like, how much money you make, or your status in life. It makes you realize how fragile life is, and how fast it can all be taken away. Literally. It makes you realize what true fear really is, while you're huddled in your storm shelter, listening to your world being torn apart. It makes you realize how truly precious life really is, and how much you love your family, your friends, and even people you barely know. It also makes you appreciate what you have, more, I think, than just about anything else could.
I can't even begin to describe the feelings you experience in the first moments, and days after climbing out of the cellar, and seeing how altered your world has become. It's shocking, frightening, humbling. It's like walking through a nightmare in which you can't awaken. It's one thing to sit in the comfort of your living room, watching the news, and seeing damage from storms. It's a whole 'nuther thing to walk through it. It's like the difference in watching a car crash in a movie, and actually being in one. And of course, it's completely different when it happens to someone else, and when it happens to you. It brings home just how personal something like that can be.
While we still have our home, and we're exceptionally grateful for that, we still feel a loss. Seeing your barns, and out-buildings, and trees in ruins hurts. I've been told "well - you were going to tear that barn down anyway," but having it taken is different. To me, it's the difference between selling a car, and having it stolen. This wasn't a choice we made. We feel the loss for our neighbors, too. Watching them pick through the rubble, looking for even the tinniest things from their life before. Watching them standing there, looking at their former life in ruins. It hurts to watch them hurt. It hurts to see all of the trees that lined our roads broken, busted, and over turned. Our landmarks are gone, and everything just feels so different. I think it's changed the landscapes of our hearts, and souls, too, and I don't think any of us will ever be quite the same again. But we're here, and we'll carry on. Some will rebuild, and some will repair, but we'll all move forward. We'll face each day as it comes, and we'll lift each others spirits however we can, because we're all in this together. We are survivors of the storm.
I can't even begin to describe the feelings you experience in the first moments, and days after climbing out of the cellar, and seeing how altered your world has become. It's shocking, frightening, humbling. It's like walking through a nightmare in which you can't awaken. It's one thing to sit in the comfort of your living room, watching the news, and seeing damage from storms. It's a whole 'nuther thing to walk through it. It's like the difference in watching a car crash in a movie, and actually being in one. And of course, it's completely different when it happens to someone else, and when it happens to you. It brings home just how personal something like that can be.
While we still have our home, and we're exceptionally grateful for that, we still feel a loss. Seeing your barns, and out-buildings, and trees in ruins hurts. I've been told "well - you were going to tear that barn down anyway," but having it taken is different. To me, it's the difference between selling a car, and having it stolen. This wasn't a choice we made. We feel the loss for our neighbors, too. Watching them pick through the rubble, looking for even the tinniest things from their life before. Watching them standing there, looking at their former life in ruins. It hurts to watch them hurt. It hurts to see all of the trees that lined our roads broken, busted, and over turned. Our landmarks are gone, and everything just feels so different. I think it's changed the landscapes of our hearts, and souls, too, and I don't think any of us will ever be quite the same again. But we're here, and we'll carry on. Some will rebuild, and some will repair, but we'll all move forward. We'll face each day as it comes, and we'll lift each others spirits however we can, because we're all in this together. We are survivors of the storm.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Random thoughts
I've never had a blog before, so this is all new to me. I'm not really sure where to start, but I was inspired by my neighbor, Miranda Lewis, after the tornado's of May 24, 2011. Miranda writes her thoughts beautifully, and I'm a bit ashamed (make that a lot) that I never got to know her as my neighbor before her home was destroyed by the tornado.
I read Miranda's blog for the first time this evening, and the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Things have been so stressful since the tornado, and I was feeling pretty down today - dealing with the insurance company, the mortgage company - the internet provider - it all gets a bit overwhelming. I needed to read Miranda's blog today. It helped to put a lot of things in perspective for me. I have my moments when I look to God for support, but I have to admit, there are times I forget to do that. I tend to let things build up, until I get to the point I think I'm going to explode. Today was one of those days. I needed to take a step back, and re-realize how lucky, and how blessed I really am. God has been good to me, even in those times I didn't think I deserved it. God is good, and God is there, even when we forget to look to him for comfort. I need to remember that more often. Thank you, Miranda, for reminding me of that.
This has been a stressful time for a lot of people. I don't think I'm special in that regard. I do realize how lucky I am - I still have my home, and most of our belongings. The house sustained some damage, but thankfully, it wasn't as serious as we originally thought it was. That, in, and of itself, is a miracle, especially if you could see the damage less than 50 feet from the back of our house. It looks like a war zone.
I've had more than a dozen people tell me how lucky we are, and how thankful I should be, and I am. I will be eternally grateful that we were spared more damage, but that doesn't mean I can't be sad for the things we lost. I AM sad about that, but I'm mostly sad for our neighbors, and our neighborhood. Everything has changed, and it will never be the same. Not in my life-time. The entire landscape that we loved, and yes, took for granted, is ravaged, and sad, and gone. It's so hard to look at that day in, and day out, and not be touched by it. I've cried more tears in the past 3 weeks than I ever thought was possible, and I'm not a person who cries easily. My heart breaks for those who lost their homes, and I send up prayers for them constantly, asking God to help them make it through this difficult time in their lives. I can't imagine what they're going through. I often wonder how we were spared, when so many have lost so much. There has to be a lesson there. I just need to find it.
I read Miranda's blog for the first time this evening, and the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Things have been so stressful since the tornado, and I was feeling pretty down today - dealing with the insurance company, the mortgage company - the internet provider - it all gets a bit overwhelming. I needed to read Miranda's blog today. It helped to put a lot of things in perspective for me. I have my moments when I look to God for support, but I have to admit, there are times I forget to do that. I tend to let things build up, until I get to the point I think I'm going to explode. Today was one of those days. I needed to take a step back, and re-realize how lucky, and how blessed I really am. God has been good to me, even in those times I didn't think I deserved it. God is good, and God is there, even when we forget to look to him for comfort. I need to remember that more often. Thank you, Miranda, for reminding me of that.
This has been a stressful time for a lot of people. I don't think I'm special in that regard. I do realize how lucky I am - I still have my home, and most of our belongings. The house sustained some damage, but thankfully, it wasn't as serious as we originally thought it was. That, in, and of itself, is a miracle, especially if you could see the damage less than 50 feet from the back of our house. It looks like a war zone.
I've had more than a dozen people tell me how lucky we are, and how thankful I should be, and I am. I will be eternally grateful that we were spared more damage, but that doesn't mean I can't be sad for the things we lost. I AM sad about that, but I'm mostly sad for our neighbors, and our neighborhood. Everything has changed, and it will never be the same. Not in my life-time. The entire landscape that we loved, and yes, took for granted, is ravaged, and sad, and gone. It's so hard to look at that day in, and day out, and not be touched by it. I've cried more tears in the past 3 weeks than I ever thought was possible, and I'm not a person who cries easily. My heart breaks for those who lost their homes, and I send up prayers for them constantly, asking God to help them make it through this difficult time in their lives. I can't imagine what they're going through. I often wonder how we were spared, when so many have lost so much. There has to be a lesson there. I just need to find it.
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