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.