Blown Away

Thankfully, I wasn’t. My family wasn’t either. But on Monday afternoon, I stood stunned as I watched a tornado cross in front of me and then (I learned minutes later) travel on to destroy neighbors’ houses.

Before it hit, I was banging away at my keyboard trying desperately to finish a volunteer project that had been looming for some time. I’d been at it all day to avoid the feeling that I’d forgotten to add that “one great bit of info.” (This typically happens after I hit “send.”)

We live in the country. Can’t hear any sirens unless I’m outside, the wind is perfect and I cup my ear (a lot.) It was nearly 70 degrees in November. The sky had been a tumultuous mess all day, so I’d been pretty calm about it. I knew conditions were perfect, but this is often the case here.

I was focused. That day, I didn’t even bother to have wunderground in the background. I wasn’t listening to a radio, I just typed.

My cousin called. “Are you in your basement?”
“No”
“Get there. There’s a warning. It’s heading toward the state line.”
From my driveway, a person could throw a ball to the state line. (Not me, but a person with a good arm...)

I looked out at the sky. Not great, but not much different than much of the day. I saved my work on all 4 pages. I silently warned Murphy not to take my computer in a funnel and fly it into Lake Michigan (that would be just like him… after all, I was almost done.) I called to the basement to see if my hubby was in his office. (He’s always on one weather website or another and calms me down when I freak about what’s out the window.) No answer.

Phone still in hand, I went downstairs, now with greater speed. I live in a house of glass with a walk-out basement. I wasn’t even completely certain of the “safest” place to huddle. I opened the front door. It was pouring. Our German Shepherd shot in like, “Thank God! Have you SEEN it out there??” (He’s typically keen to remain outside no matter how inclement.)

His reaction escalated my fear. “C’mon Sully!” Grabbed flashlight while calling husband’s cell. Ran to basement, checking out windows. Sheets of rain, dark clouds. Trying to get on wunderground downstairs. Fingers not working, then can’t read what it says. What does a pink triangle mean? What’s that noise? It’s our heater fan. Shut it off so I can hear! Ran upstairs. Shut it off.

Husband was at the bank. Children were hopefully still at the school (it was dismissal time.) Faster yet went my heart. Why do tornados like 3pm??
Sully followed wherever I went. (Even to a quick stop to the john, which is in the room he gets bathed. Not typical dog behavior. I peed turbo fast.) Opened door to small room of safety. Basement floor. Dashed out.

Flashlight, phone, dog. Pillow to sit on, blanket. Radio? Dashed to family room, stopped.

Looked up.

A charcoal gray column about 200 feet wide was in front of me, just beyond our pond. The rain had stopped, the air just outside the giant windows in front of me was calm. I mouthed, “Oh, dear God. There it is.” Mouth and eyes agape.

“Sully come!” We huddled on the floor of the little room and he licked my face while I sobbed, thankful for redial since I couldn’t see. “I just saw it… I saw the tornado.”

“You saw it?!” My husband was still at the bank, but now outside watching the storm as it had passed. “It’s passed. You’ll be okay. I’m coming home.”

We agreed he should check the school to be sure the kids were still in it, rather than en route. He did. They were.

I called my dad, still huddling, still sobbing. Still wrapping my mind around what I’d seen. Still wondering all the “what if’s.”

The phone kept ringing. We still had power, miraculously. As I emerged from my huddle, I could see no damage.

Three homes and two barns were hit and sustained devastating damage. One couple was still heading to the basement when it hit, peeling off the top of their ranch house like a sardine can.

Sheet metal and insulation everywhere. Cattle killed. The people were all fine.

Just after I saw it, it must have leaped my neighbor’s house (sparing it completely) and then traveled down her wooded driveway, snapping and uprooting mature evergreens as it did. Two of her full-grown trees were found in the field across the road.

After we gratefully received the kids from the 1 hour late bus, we assessed the damage in our fields. We could see the path in the matted grass, but it must have lifted (or simply didn’t like eating less-mature evergreens!) as it went over the nursery stock. All of it was fine. Deciduous trees in a few of the fence lines and a giant willow tree in a creek bed were shattered. Our neighbor to the north of the fields lost chunks of roof and had shattered windows and downed trees.

Our bus driver hunts our land. He’d taken the day off to hunt. Chores and other distractions kept him from getting to the field, and then the rain came. He was waiting it out before heading here. Had he been in his tree stand when the tornado came through, he’d have been wrapped in a tangle of metal. We found the stand 200 yards from where it had been anchored. It was mangled.

As I thank God over and over for sparing us and our home and trees, I still can’t help but wonder how the tornados choose. It was a question uttered by my youngest the day after the storm. How do we know the next one won’t miss us? She internalizes a lot and after she simmers a bit, we’re careful to give her a release valve so she doesn’t explode.

We acknowledged that her fear is logical and real and it’s natural to be scared of something so powerful. All we can do is be aware and prepare as best we can. Only the wind can truly know. Until then, we just go on and continue to be grateful for doing so.

(And any time life blows us away, we can ask our mommies to rock us and hug the tears away.)

A very happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

Refresh.

Written 11/5/10

Refresh.

I’m not really sure about all the techno ya ya that happens when I hit that magical button on my browser. Somehow, though, it makes the old, unneeded stuff go away and brings me the new, fresh stuff. Ta da!

I’ve been refreshing. My office, my house, my website, my career, my thoughts. There was (and still is) a lot of garbage in all of it. I recycled a stack of magazines yesterday. Some were never even cracked open. I moved them, more than a year ago, to my new office where I’ve tripped over them, moved them from this corner to that and have let them silently suck energy from me. They would whisper, “Aren’t you going to read me? Oprah has a lot of great gems to share and those nice people from Family Fun are filled with great ideas as well. And there have to be some great tips on living more green and healthy in the yoga mags… C’mon, stop and read us!”

Do you have talking stacks of stuff like this? Admit it. Laundry and extraneous projects have spoken to you, begging to be completed (or at least given a second glance!)

I took about 15 minutes to look at the covers, rip 3 articles out of the whole stack of O. I then allowed myself to keep the old WonderTime magazines that are now out of print. (They’re that good and they still make me think and smile.) The rest of them made it to the curb. Liberating.

I resisted posting the lovely periodicals on freecycle, asking friends if they wanted them and the like. Sometimes, you just have to choose and purge.

After making quite a few decisions that weren’t my finest, I’m consciously choosing who gets my energy and time. I’m choosing what will remain and what needs to GO in regards to relationships, attention, stuff, money, projects, ideas and events. While I realize that this will not be a series of decisions as easy as dumping Oprah in the blue bin, I’m keeping my eye on the end.

When I look back, whether it’s a day or years, I’d like to be proud of my actions. Living on purpose and thriving, rather than reacting and surviving.

I can already feel the energy in this “refresh.” More updates to come.

Speed Dating

Last night, in a long-awaited gathering of friends, I was reminded how important it is to find community. We are all alone in many aspects. We may be around people all day, or not. We may talk to people constantly, or not. We may have plenty on the social calendar, or not. None of this really accounts for how alone a person may feel. Isolation comes in many packages, most especially for extroverts who work from home... alone.

We chose to “speed date” last night (or some warped version thereof for all of us aged 30-40 something wives/moms.) Our dilemma has always been that our evenings together as a group are few and far between. While we enjoy the time out together, we never feel completely caught up or “in tune” with what’s going on in the lives of these women we call friends.

We’re all busy. We’re all caught up in our own junk. So we’ll chat a bit about the tooth fairy incident to one friend, a bit about the job search to another, and on a rare occasion, we’ll get into some of the meat of our challenges. Sometimes, if we eavesdrop, we’ll catch a 2 for 1 conversation and learn about what’s happening with two other gals, but then it’s time to go, leaving so much left unsaid and unheard.

There were 12 of us. The first hour is filled with greeting each other and discussing what delicious things are on the countertop buffet. Once we had our group, we sat in a circle with our loaded plates and touched on what’s been happening of late.

There were losses, there were gains. There were updates on things we knew and surprising news of things we’d not yet heard. There were admissions, confessions and some therapeutic monologues that solidified self discoveries for us all to bear witness. There has been healing as well as disrepair. There was laughter, silence and tears. New jokes were made that are sure to last.

We heard, “my life is boring, nothing really going on…” more than once. (Even in the assumed mundane we can feel isolation.) Yet, everyone had struggles and learning and triumphs that were inspiring. I gained something from every woman there. I felt seen, heard, loved and a tiny been more known. I have a better idea of how I might support each of my friends. I can keep an eye out for resources to help her, lend an ear or a hand, spread the word about her skill or products. Or I can just hold the space for her success.

We’ve decided to speed date once a month, but I think we’ll need a better name…