The storms are past. And here we were just between the bands, so even though folks at school told me we were actually under a warning about 1 a.m. last night, I heard nothing save intermittent patters of sporadic rain that seemed playful in comparison to some of the downpours we’ve had recently.
The lightening was frightening though. Pulsing like it was sitting right over our house and waiting to strike. I was afraid to go to sleep for fear of what the night would be bring and afraid to stay awake for fear of the day…but sometime as I lay in my bed after viewing all the damage to my alma mater and praying earnestly that God would wake me in time to gather my girls…I felt a calmness that told me we were safe.
And so I slept. And so we were.
But so many others were not and I could beg the question all night long of how and why, but we don’t know and there is only One who does. But as I look at photographs of those, who in only a week will join me in the ranks of alumni, cleaning debris (which is a small word for a might tree that I sat under on spring afternoons and read Faulkner and Shakespeare and contemplated clouds) and I hear stories of children who survived though their homes are crushed and twisted beyond recognition, and I know we are not alone.
|Photo taken at Berry College. This is the dorm I lived in when I was a student.|
So today I am thankful for so many little things…for twenty-four precious gifts that are small, but that somehow might help save me from the weight of despair and destruction and desensitization….
10. a small paci with a pink handle abandoned on the table by a baby who loves pop-tarts
15. bubbling up the bath with foam
16. daddy walking in the door to squeals of baby delight
18. thunder that rolls over the house and keeps on going
19. bacon sizzling in the pan hungry mouths to feed
22. a belief to rebuild a life upon