As I lay in bed one recent evening, about to fall asleep, a piercing alarm shattered the quiet. Even though it was late, I shot out of bed, my feet barely touching the floor as I ran to see where this noise was coming from and turn it off before everyone was awake. Five ear piercing electronic blasts lasting nearly two seconds a piece came from the other end of the house.
Fortunately, the alarm did not wake the kids. Unfortunately, before I could get to the source, the house went silent again. The eardrum splitting alarm was gone. I sat still and quiet, holding my breath as if I could catch the perpetrator if it did not realize I was there; but to no avail, no beep, screech, or alarm was forthcoming.
Now, if you’ve ever found yourself in a similar situation, you know the dilemma we are now facing. We know that there is a malfunction in one of the many alarms we have in our home and we can probably guess it is a dead battery, but without being next to it, we can’t tell which one it is. We also know that this isn’t probably the last time this alarm wails, history tells us that we can expect more to follow. Going to bed now would be pointless, we need to formulate a plan to conquer this problem.
So my wife and I developed a strategic system to figure out which alarm was the culprit. She positioned herself in one room under an alarm and I was near another. I know this isn’t the most sophisticated system, but it was almost midnight, what do you expect? Five minutes went by, then ten, and soon I lost my focus and started wandering the house. Recognizing my wandering as weakness, it was then that the mystery alarm momentarily revealed itself. My wife rushed out of the room she was in and said, “It wasn’t that one, was it yours?”
Unfortunately, because I was out of position, I still could not tell which alarm was the culprit. I sheepishly shrugged.
“What do you mean you don’t know, you were sitting right next to it!?!?”
I explained that I had wandered and she said, “You left your post?” in a tone that sounded more like hurt astonishment than question.
I knew at this point that the mystery was now mine to own. I positioned myself near an alarm to continue the process of elimination. Another half hour passed before the squeal let loose and we were able to identify the exact alarm. I dutifully climbed up on a chair and changed out the battery. Now you may be asking yourself at this point, why didn’t you just change all the batteries? Well, good question, but my simple response is that I only had one new battery remaining and I didn’t want to run to the store at midnight to buy new nine volts. Unfortunately, this decision was moot as it turned out not to be a battery problem at all. In fact, when I was changing the battery, it set off all of the smoke alarms, including the one’s the children’s room. Our daughter, somehow, didn’t wake (oh, how we’d all love to sleep that heavy again, right?). Our son woke up and in a worried voice said, “Mommy, what’s happening?”
“The smoke alarms are going off and we’re trying to figure out how to turn them off,” she calmly responded.
As he drifted back off to sleep, he simply said, “Well, think about it for a minute and then go do something,” great advice for so many problems.
After more than an hour of wrestling with the mystery, we eventually just had to turn off the breaker to the alarms completely to fix the problem (before I get an inbox full of warnings, we went out and bought a battery operated smoke detector to use until we get this situation fixed, thanks for your concern). Our alarms still don’t work properly, but don’t worry, I am going to think about this problem for a minute and then I’ll go do something.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Stumbling into responsibility . . . literally.
My wife and I recently decided to give my son more responsibility around the house, I mean seriously, the kid is five and bringing in absolutely zero income into our household, it’s about time he contributes something, right? All kidding aside, we have been kicking around the idea of giving him more chores in order to give him a sense of responsibility.
We started with some simple chores, picking up his room (a traditional childhood chore that I never seemed to fully grasp) and cleaning all the window sills once a week. He has been tremendously successful doing that, in fact, the windows have been looking wonderfully due to his diligence. Even better, he has done this work with minimal coercion on our part and minimal complaining on his.
Knowing that his success offered us an opportunity to expand his responsibilities even further, we decided to offer a more serious chore – taking care of the family dog, Tucker. Now, this was potentially tricky, you see, his failure to complete this daily task would result in more work for me. For example, forgetting to take the dog out one day would inevitably lead to Tucker having an “accident” on our bed which would result in major cleaning in the Ryerson household. So you can imagine my trepidation on this next step, although his track record with new chores was excellent.
I pondered this increased work load as I cleaned out the barn. From our barn, I could see the front door of the house and at about that time, I heard the front door slam shut. I looked up and watched my growing boy step down from the front porch and slowly make his way toward the barn. He crossed the yard and came to the small kiddie pool that we had filled earlier in the day as a cool treat for the children. As he passed the pool, he reached down to dip his hand into the water. Somehow, this pushed his little frame off balance; he stumbled, tripped, and started falling in the opposite direction, away from the pool until he was almost ten feet from his original position of stooping to reach the water.
As I watched, I was tickled by the fact that this all seemed to be happening in slow motion. However, this wasn’t the end of the entertainment. In an effort to regain his balance, he overcompensated and started stumbling back toward the pool. Trying to get his feet back under him, he moved his legs quicker as his head moved further forward. By the time he closed the distance back toward the pool, he was in what appeared to be a swan dive position and he went right over the lip of the pool head first into it. Despite the pool being only inches deep, our son seemed to completely submerge himself into the water. Standing up completely soaked and not realizing I was watching he muttered, “Awww man!” and then started laughing at himself.
This is when I realized that we had done something right. Despite the fact he was soaked, he was humble enough to get a chuckle out of the ridiculous situation. When he saw me laughing in the barn, he laughed even harder. Taking care of the dog should be no problem and if he fails from time to time, I should take a lesson from my son and be humble enough to clean up the mess.
We started with some simple chores, picking up his room (a traditional childhood chore that I never seemed to fully grasp) and cleaning all the window sills once a week. He has been tremendously successful doing that, in fact, the windows have been looking wonderfully due to his diligence. Even better, he has done this work with minimal coercion on our part and minimal complaining on his.
Knowing that his success offered us an opportunity to expand his responsibilities even further, we decided to offer a more serious chore – taking care of the family dog, Tucker. Now, this was potentially tricky, you see, his failure to complete this daily task would result in more work for me. For example, forgetting to take the dog out one day would inevitably lead to Tucker having an “accident” on our bed which would result in major cleaning in the Ryerson household. So you can imagine my trepidation on this next step, although his track record with new chores was excellent.
I pondered this increased work load as I cleaned out the barn. From our barn, I could see the front door of the house and at about that time, I heard the front door slam shut. I looked up and watched my growing boy step down from the front porch and slowly make his way toward the barn. He crossed the yard and came to the small kiddie pool that we had filled earlier in the day as a cool treat for the children. As he passed the pool, he reached down to dip his hand into the water. Somehow, this pushed his little frame off balance; he stumbled, tripped, and started falling in the opposite direction, away from the pool until he was almost ten feet from his original position of stooping to reach the water.
As I watched, I was tickled by the fact that this all seemed to be happening in slow motion. However, this wasn’t the end of the entertainment. In an effort to regain his balance, he overcompensated and started stumbling back toward the pool. Trying to get his feet back under him, he moved his legs quicker as his head moved further forward. By the time he closed the distance back toward the pool, he was in what appeared to be a swan dive position and he went right over the lip of the pool head first into it. Despite the pool being only inches deep, our son seemed to completely submerge himself into the water. Standing up completely soaked and not realizing I was watching he muttered, “Awww man!” and then started laughing at himself.
This is when I realized that we had done something right. Despite the fact he was soaked, he was humble enough to get a chuckle out of the ridiculous situation. When he saw me laughing in the barn, he laughed even harder. Taking care of the dog should be no problem and if he fails from time to time, I should take a lesson from my son and be humble enough to clean up the mess.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The voice of an angel and a voice that is not.
My daughter has the voice of an angel. Of course I say that because she is my daughter. However, she is two years old and any two year old singing, “Jesus Loves Me”, sounds like an angel. She sings all the time and when she doesn’t know a song, she makes up her own. She seems to be developing into a little song bird. I believe she gets this skill and interest from my wife. My wife also has a beautiful voice. Now I know what you are thinking, “Matt, you have to say that because she is your wife.” True. However, others have confirmed this fact as she has been in church choirs for many years, so half of our family of four is musically gifted.
The other half of the family . . . well, let’s just say we have “other” gifts. In fairness, my son doesn’t have a bad singing voice, he just seems disinterested. Every night, we read a book, sing a song, and say our prayers and he seems least interested in singing a song. My hope is that he did not receive the ear for music that his father has. You see, I am not a good singer. To be completely candid, that statement is not completely accurate, it is actually an overstatement of my skills.
To show you just how bad I am, I’ll share a story. When I was in high school, I tried out for the school choir. I was a senior and had enough credits to graduate and I didn’t want to take an additional study hall, so I signed up. Although, deep in the recesses of my mind I believed that it was possible I had some untapped talent that could be released in this class. Once I joined the class, I sang my heart out, I held nothing back. Apparently, holding back is exactly what I should have been doing.
After about three days in the choir, the instructor asked me to stay after class. I thought for certain she was going to offer me my first breakout role and give me a solo in the upcoming school musical. So you can imagine my surprise when she said, “Matt, we are glad you joined choir, but we are going to ask you to . . . well . . . we’d prefer it if you didn’t sing.”
“But this is choir, that’s what you do in choir, SING!” I said in astonishment.
“Yes, that is what makes this so hard,” the instructor responded sheepishly, and she walked away.
I remember storming out of the choir loft believing that she was nuts. I even went home and tape recorded myself and played it back to hear what she was listening to in order to confirm my beliefs. However, after some time I started to realize, wow, I am really not a very good singer. In fact, the more I listened, the worse it got. How had I become so disillusioned?
As you might imagine, I have become hypersensitive to this issue and probably fall on the Simon Cowell side of critical when listening to those around me. So rest assured, if you have the opportunity to hear my wife or daughter sing, you will be blessed, they have voices of angels. On the flip side, don’t sit in front of me at church, praise and worship might just be painful.
The other half of the family . . . well, let’s just say we have “other” gifts. In fairness, my son doesn’t have a bad singing voice, he just seems disinterested. Every night, we read a book, sing a song, and say our prayers and he seems least interested in singing a song. My hope is that he did not receive the ear for music that his father has. You see, I am not a good singer. To be completely candid, that statement is not completely accurate, it is actually an overstatement of my skills.
To show you just how bad I am, I’ll share a story. When I was in high school, I tried out for the school choir. I was a senior and had enough credits to graduate and I didn’t want to take an additional study hall, so I signed up. Although, deep in the recesses of my mind I believed that it was possible I had some untapped talent that could be released in this class. Once I joined the class, I sang my heart out, I held nothing back. Apparently, holding back is exactly what I should have been doing.
After about three days in the choir, the instructor asked me to stay after class. I thought for certain she was going to offer me my first breakout role and give me a solo in the upcoming school musical. So you can imagine my surprise when she said, “Matt, we are glad you joined choir, but we are going to ask you to . . . well . . . we’d prefer it if you didn’t sing.”
“But this is choir, that’s what you do in choir, SING!” I said in astonishment.
“Yes, that is what makes this so hard,” the instructor responded sheepishly, and she walked away.
I remember storming out of the choir loft believing that she was nuts. I even went home and tape recorded myself and played it back to hear what she was listening to in order to confirm my beliefs. However, after some time I started to realize, wow, I am really not a very good singer. In fact, the more I listened, the worse it got. How had I become so disillusioned?
As you might imagine, I have become hypersensitive to this issue and probably fall on the Simon Cowell side of critical when listening to those around me. So rest assured, if you have the opportunity to hear my wife or daughter sing, you will be blessed, they have voices of angels. On the flip side, don’t sit in front of me at church, praise and worship might just be painful.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
How our children view us
Recently, I visited my son at his preschool for “Daddy’s and Donuts Day”. This was a wonderful opportunity for me to squeeze my 6 foot, 200+ lb. frame onto a preschool sized chair and listen to our adorable children describe their daddy’s. You see, the school had them complete a form titled, “All About My Dad”. This was a fun activity as the teacher read the answers our children provided on this simple, fill in the blank form. The answers and how our children see us had the entire class laughing.
The form started with the simple question, “My daddy is ___ tall and weighs ____ pounds.” My son answered that I was 20 feet tall and weighed 30 pounds. This suggests that my son either views me as a bean stalk or he has no concept of height and weight.
He went on to say that he believed I was “17 years old”. My interpretation is that I still look like I am 17 years old.
My Dad’s favorite thing to eat is “Mac and cheese and everything” . . . well, that’s about right.
He likes to watch “football, baseball, hockey, and soccer” on TV. Not sure about the soccer, but I guess the rest is true.
My Dad’s favorite thing to do is “Walk”. Boy, did he swing and miss on this question. I think he is confusing my effort to run with walking, but that’s an easy mistake considering my slow pace . . . and I don’t “like” it.
I like it when he “Lets mommy drive the car”. Not sure where this one comes from, kind of makes me feel like a controlling husband. Do I force her into the passenger seat? Oh well, he’ll be easy to please in the future, “Here honey, why don’t you make your son happy and drive us to Mississippi, I’ll take a nap.”
Since “Daddy’s and Donuts Day,” he has graduated preschool (with a full graduation ceremony, including cap, gown, and diploma) and lost his first tooth. Fortunately, these two things are not directly related except the fact that they are major milestones for our first born. While mommy and daddy struggle to accept the pace at which our children’s lives move forward, my son summed it all best when he pulled his tooth out by himself in the backseat of the car, held it up in his hand and calmly said, “That was better than I thought.”
We could probably take his words to heart. My son will not always see me as a 20 foot tall, mac and cheese eating 17 year old, but today he does and that feels better than I thought.
The form started with the simple question, “My daddy is ___ tall and weighs ____ pounds.” My son answered that I was 20 feet tall and weighed 30 pounds. This suggests that my son either views me as a bean stalk or he has no concept of height and weight.
He went on to say that he believed I was “17 years old”. My interpretation is that I still look like I am 17 years old.
My Dad’s favorite thing to eat is “Mac and cheese and everything” . . . well, that’s about right.
He likes to watch “football, baseball, hockey, and soccer” on TV. Not sure about the soccer, but I guess the rest is true.
My Dad’s favorite thing to do is “Walk”. Boy, did he swing and miss on this question. I think he is confusing my effort to run with walking, but that’s an easy mistake considering my slow pace . . . and I don’t “like” it.
I like it when he “Lets mommy drive the car”. Not sure where this one comes from, kind of makes me feel like a controlling husband. Do I force her into the passenger seat? Oh well, he’ll be easy to please in the future, “Here honey, why don’t you make your son happy and drive us to Mississippi, I’ll take a nap.”
Since “Daddy’s and Donuts Day,” he has graduated preschool (with a full graduation ceremony, including cap, gown, and diploma) and lost his first tooth. Fortunately, these two things are not directly related except the fact that they are major milestones for our first born. While mommy and daddy struggle to accept the pace at which our children’s lives move forward, my son summed it all best when he pulled his tooth out by himself in the backseat of the car, held it up in his hand and calmly said, “That was better than I thought.”
We could probably take his words to heart. My son will not always see me as a 20 foot tall, mac and cheese eating 17 year old, but today he does and that feels better than I thought.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
My son is graduating and I've caught my pants on fire!
After the storm, we were left with a number of downed trees in our yard. As the man of the house, it was my responsibility to get my chainsaw out and start taking those trees apart. Unfortunately, I do not own a chainsaw, so I had to wait for a crew of skilled woodsman to come help me. I felt much like a damsel in distress. Nonetheless, the burly bear men came to my house and cut up my trees as I delivered them cold cups of lemonade. Is this a mild exaggeration . . . maybe mild, but you get my point. At least I was able to remove the brush and stack the wood, but, for the first time in my life, I felt completely helpless and removed from that action around me.
This continued on earlier this week when we took my son to register for Kindergarten. My son is five and he has been in church nurseries, parents night out events, and pre-school programs, but those were all short-term and temporary. Kindergarten is the beginning of formal education and represents long-term and permanent change. I was concerned about how my son would take the transition until we got to registration. Immediately he gravitated to another young boy, also registering for kindergarten with his grandmother.
My son walked up to the boy and said, “Hi, want to come to my house and play?” so much for my concerns about making friends. It was at that moment that I realized that it wasn’t my son I was worried about, it was me. The world is moving around me and I am just beginning to recognize how little control I have.
I continued to work around the pile of burning brush in our yard, trying to remove the evidence of the devastation our community has suffered and I pondered this reality. My control is limited, even in areas where I thought I had total control, I have little. I was deep in thought and pondering this firm reality when I felt a stinging on my calf. I believed I had probably stepped onto a nest of fire ants and looked down at my pants to determine the source of this stinging when I realized I had gotten too close to the burn pile and caught myself on fire. Yes, my pant leg was aflame. I quickly put myself out (never thought I’d write that sentence) and laughed. I had been so distracted by what I could not control, that I lost sight of what I could . . . case in point – catching myself on fire.
As we walked our son up to the school to register for school, he turned to me and in an excited tone asked, “Daddy, is this for real? Is this really happening?” I smiled and realizing that I did not want to miss the joy of watching him grow up by focusing on my lack of control, I said to myself, “Yes it is, and I will sit back and enjoy it with you.” Maybe now I can focus on burning that brush and not my pants.
This continued on earlier this week when we took my son to register for Kindergarten. My son is five and he has been in church nurseries, parents night out events, and pre-school programs, but those were all short-term and temporary. Kindergarten is the beginning of formal education and represents long-term and permanent change. I was concerned about how my son would take the transition until we got to registration. Immediately he gravitated to another young boy, also registering for kindergarten with his grandmother.
My son walked up to the boy and said, “Hi, want to come to my house and play?” so much for my concerns about making friends. It was at that moment that I realized that it wasn’t my son I was worried about, it was me. The world is moving around me and I am just beginning to recognize how little control I have.
I continued to work around the pile of burning brush in our yard, trying to remove the evidence of the devastation our community has suffered and I pondered this reality. My control is limited, even in areas where I thought I had total control, I have little. I was deep in thought and pondering this firm reality when I felt a stinging on my calf. I believed I had probably stepped onto a nest of fire ants and looked down at my pants to determine the source of this stinging when I realized I had gotten too close to the burn pile and caught myself on fire. Yes, my pant leg was aflame. I quickly put myself out (never thought I’d write that sentence) and laughed. I had been so distracted by what I could not control, that I lost sight of what I could . . . case in point – catching myself on fire.
As we walked our son up to the school to register for school, he turned to me and in an excited tone asked, “Daddy, is this for real? Is this really happening?” I smiled and realizing that I did not want to miss the joy of watching him grow up by focusing on my lack of control, I said to myself, “Yes it is, and I will sit back and enjoy it with you.” Maybe now I can focus on burning that brush and not my pants.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
A welcome respite, well, sort of . . .
I never thought running a half marathon would be considered a welcome respite, but considering the events in our community over the last two weeks, it turned out to be exactly that . . . at least for the first eight miles.
As many of you know, I had committed to running a half marathon some time ago. My purpose for doing this was purely selfish – to help motivate me to get in shape. At some level it worked, I lost 25 pounds and was in good shape. But considering the tragedy that has befallen our community, I decided to be less selfish and take a more community-minded approach. I embraced an idea my good friend, William Lamb suggested. You see, William was one of the many victims of the storms of April 27th, suffering major damage to his home and property. He is also one of the most selfless people I know in that he served his community for endless hours over the past two weeks despite his own losses. His suggestion was to commit a portion of our community to prayer every mile of the run. I decided this was a wonderful idea and committed to prayer, beginning with mile one and William and his family.
However, the run was not without its comical moments. It started on about mile nine, with my pace slowing, I noticed spectators were pointing behind me. This is when a young man passed me . . . as he juggled. I don’t think there is much I can say about that.
Nonetheless, this embarrassment did not diminish my effort (only bruised my pride) because my true motivation was waiting for me at the end of the race. My wife and children had taken position just yards before from the finish line. My son was excited and was somehow under the delusion that I could win the race and when they arrived at the finish line, he said, “Mommy, I think daddy is in first place.” Then after many minutes and watching hundreds of runners cross the line, it became obvious that my son had significantly overestimated my speed and said, “Mommy, maybe daddy is in last place,” just another image of his father crushed by reality.
While patiently waiting for daddy to finally arrive, our son needed to take a potty break. My wife quickly whisked him to the nearest port-a-potty and told him to go on in. He opened the door and stopped, looking back at mommy, unsure of himself. My wife, sensing his fear of going alone was causing him pause, told him, “Go on, it’s okay.”
He started to go in, but stopped again, this time, dead in his tracks, he looked at my wife and simply shook his head no. My son was not typically this nervous, so my wife asked him what was wrong. This is when my son shared his true issue, in a quiet voice, he simply said, “Mommy, there is someone in there.” He obviously went in the next one.
As I approached the finish line, I stopped for hugs and kisses, only to have my son yell, “Daddy, GO!” He was probably fearful I would lose my place on the podium.
As I crossed the finish line (finally), I could not help but be overwhelmed by the blessings in my life and the devastation my community had suffered. I decided at that moment that I would not just commit my run to prayer for the people and families in my community. I would commit my daily life to prayer for the people and families in my community. Maybe it’ll help me forget those painful last five miles.
As many of you know, I had committed to running a half marathon some time ago. My purpose for doing this was purely selfish – to help motivate me to get in shape. At some level it worked, I lost 25 pounds and was in good shape. But considering the tragedy that has befallen our community, I decided to be less selfish and take a more community-minded approach. I embraced an idea my good friend, William Lamb suggested. You see, William was one of the many victims of the storms of April 27th, suffering major damage to his home and property. He is also one of the most selfless people I know in that he served his community for endless hours over the past two weeks despite his own losses. His suggestion was to commit a portion of our community to prayer every mile of the run. I decided this was a wonderful idea and committed to prayer, beginning with mile one and William and his family.
However, the run was not without its comical moments. It started on about mile nine, with my pace slowing, I noticed spectators were pointing behind me. This is when a young man passed me . . . as he juggled. I don’t think there is much I can say about that.
Nonetheless, this embarrassment did not diminish my effort (only bruised my pride) because my true motivation was waiting for me at the end of the race. My wife and children had taken position just yards before from the finish line. My son was excited and was somehow under the delusion that I could win the race and when they arrived at the finish line, he said, “Mommy, I think daddy is in first place.” Then after many minutes and watching hundreds of runners cross the line, it became obvious that my son had significantly overestimated my speed and said, “Mommy, maybe daddy is in last place,” just another image of his father crushed by reality.
While patiently waiting for daddy to finally arrive, our son needed to take a potty break. My wife quickly whisked him to the nearest port-a-potty and told him to go on in. He opened the door and stopped, looking back at mommy, unsure of himself. My wife, sensing his fear of going alone was causing him pause, told him, “Go on, it’s okay.”
He started to go in, but stopped again, this time, dead in his tracks, he looked at my wife and simply shook his head no. My son was not typically this nervous, so my wife asked him what was wrong. This is when my son shared his true issue, in a quiet voice, he simply said, “Mommy, there is someone in there.” He obviously went in the next one.
As I approached the finish line, I stopped for hugs and kisses, only to have my son yell, “Daddy, GO!” He was probably fearful I would lose my place on the podium.
As I crossed the finish line (finally), I could not help but be overwhelmed by the blessings in my life and the devastation my community had suffered. I decided at that moment that I would not just commit my run to prayer for the people and families in my community. I would commit my daily life to prayer for the people and families in my community. Maybe it’ll help me forget those painful last five miles.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Our Tornado Story
I am sorry I have been absent from the blog. As you might know, we were directly impacted by the devastation the stroms of April 27th brought to Bradley County, we witnessed a firsthand a EF-4 tornado coming directly at our home, suffered minor property damage and had no power for over a week. Nonetheless, we are blessed. So many people lost so much and yet the spirit of this community has risen above. Since most of you are friends and family from around the country, I wanted to share my families story during this devastation, so here it is;
I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had grown up in the Midwest, so I had seen a number of tornados in my life, but this one seemed to be only a couple hundred yards away coming across the field directly at our home. I was stunned. So stunned that I asked my wife to look out the window to confirm what I was seeing.
“Should we get the kids?” she wisely and calmly asked.
After another moment of disbelief, I screamed “YES!”
We sprinted to the kid’s rooms, snatched them out of their beds and dove into a closet in the bathroom. In the chaos, we had forgotten the dog, I opened the door to go back and get him and when I did, my ears began to pop as the house pressurized from the force of the tornado. Looking back at this moment, I realize that is was the first time in my life that I felt completely and utterly helpless. I knew we were in a dire situation and I also knew there was nothing we could do about it.
Earlier that day, as the local news media warned our community of the impending storms, my wife took the time to walk around our house and our property praying protection over our family and our belongings. I honestly thought she was being a little dramatic as I had lived in placed where tornados dwell and it is rare that you would see one, much less, that it would actually hit your home. However, in hindsight, I firmly believe that her decision and faithfulness had a direct impact on how this story ended for our family.
After a few minutes in the closet listening to the screaming wind and the crashing trees outside, the storm began to subside. I emerged from our shelter to assess the damages, fully prepared for the worst. As I walked around the inside and outside of our home, I quickly realized the damage was minimal. I started questioning whether it was actually a tornado I saw. It wasn’t till the next morning that we fully realized the impact of what happened and the devastation that surrounded us.
The next morning, as we walked the neighborhood, we realized that we had taken a direct hit from one of nature’s most powerful forces. Six wooded acres to our West were leveled, with nearly every home sustaining serious to total damage; an entire forest to the East of property was laid flat with a subdivision on the other side being leveled. In between these areas of devastation sat our home with our family huddled in a closet. Our house was literally sitting in the middle of the path of this monster and remained nearly untouched . . . a miracle by any standard. We were spared, not that we deserved it, but simply by the grace of God.
Since the storm, we witnessed a woman folding clothes in her baby’s nursery from the street because the home had no roof and walls. We witnessed a best friend’s home and property destroyed beyond recognition. We witnessed the aftermath of our car picked up and moved like it was a Hot Wheels, telephone poles tossed like toothpicks, trees snapped like twigs, and buildings crushed like they were built out of Lego’s.
However, since that time, we have also witnessed people serving. We witnessed Lee University students volunteering for 14 hour days the weekend before Final Exam week. We have witnessed organizations that are natural competitors, sharing offices, sharing resources, and sharing information. We have witnessed grassroots, volunteer operations through schools and churches putting people in the disaster stricken areas, reaching out to serve their neighbors. I have witnessed that inspirational spirit that makes our community so legendary. Despite my wish to have our community free from this devastation, I am grateful to have witnessed it all.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had grown up in the Midwest, so I had seen a number of tornados in my life, but this one seemed to be only a couple hundred yards away coming across the field directly at our home. I was stunned. So stunned that I asked my wife to look out the window to confirm what I was seeing.
“Should we get the kids?” she wisely and calmly asked.
After another moment of disbelief, I screamed “YES!”
We sprinted to the kid’s rooms, snatched them out of their beds and dove into a closet in the bathroom. In the chaos, we had forgotten the dog, I opened the door to go back and get him and when I did, my ears began to pop as the house pressurized from the force of the tornado. Looking back at this moment, I realize that is was the first time in my life that I felt completely and utterly helpless. I knew we were in a dire situation and I also knew there was nothing we could do about it.
Earlier that day, as the local news media warned our community of the impending storms, my wife took the time to walk around our house and our property praying protection over our family and our belongings. I honestly thought she was being a little dramatic as I had lived in placed where tornados dwell and it is rare that you would see one, much less, that it would actually hit your home. However, in hindsight, I firmly believe that her decision and faithfulness had a direct impact on how this story ended for our family.
After a few minutes in the closet listening to the screaming wind and the crashing trees outside, the storm began to subside. I emerged from our shelter to assess the damages, fully prepared for the worst. As I walked around the inside and outside of our home, I quickly realized the damage was minimal. I started questioning whether it was actually a tornado I saw. It wasn’t till the next morning that we fully realized the impact of what happened and the devastation that surrounded us.
The next morning, as we walked the neighborhood, we realized that we had taken a direct hit from one of nature’s most powerful forces. Six wooded acres to our West were leveled, with nearly every home sustaining serious to total damage; an entire forest to the East of property was laid flat with a subdivision on the other side being leveled. In between these areas of devastation sat our home with our family huddled in a closet. Our house was literally sitting in the middle of the path of this monster and remained nearly untouched . . . a miracle by any standard. We were spared, not that we deserved it, but simply by the grace of God.
Since the storm, we witnessed a woman folding clothes in her baby’s nursery from the street because the home had no roof and walls. We witnessed a best friend’s home and property destroyed beyond recognition. We witnessed the aftermath of our car picked up and moved like it was a Hot Wheels, telephone poles tossed like toothpicks, trees snapped like twigs, and buildings crushed like they were built out of Lego’s.
However, since that time, we have also witnessed people serving. We witnessed Lee University students volunteering for 14 hour days the weekend before Final Exam week. We have witnessed organizations that are natural competitors, sharing offices, sharing resources, and sharing information. We have witnessed grassroots, volunteer operations through schools and churches putting people in the disaster stricken areas, reaching out to serve their neighbors. I have witnessed that inspirational spirit that makes our community so legendary. Despite my wish to have our community free from this devastation, I am grateful to have witnessed it all.
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