Cozy Little House

It has been raining and storming for days. Here in Tulsa, we came out unscathed. We did not see what Central Oklahoma, namely Moore, Oklahoma, saw. Moore has seen more than its share of tornadoes. It has been practically leveled a number of times. And still it seems to rise back from the ashes.

It’s been dark all day. So finally, tired of sitting in the half darkness, I started lighting candles. And as I went about the dining and living rooms lighting them, I told myself they were for the ones that did not survive this round.

Last night about 10:30 I laid in my bed and listened to a strange sound overhead. I realized it was helicopters coming through on their way to Oklahoma City and Moore. Probably TV affiliates and federal disaster crews and those that just wanted to help.

I listened to the thwack-thwack until I fell asleep, the rain still beating on the roof and the thunder still growling.

If you grew up in Oklahoma, you know all about tornadoes. They are one of nature’s fiercest beasts. Funneling down and thrashing everything in its wake. So quickly entire towns become piles of rubble.

I haven’t had the TV on all day. I’m not a daytime TV person. And I don’t want to see the various local and national news crews rehash it all. Standing in the rain with a microphone, I know they are just doing their job.

Instead every little bit I check online to get the latest updates. My younger daughter in Oklahoma City is accounted for. I wonder if someone I know has been caught up in this terrible storm. If their lives have been forever changed by this.

I sit and stare at the spots of light from the candles throwing shadows on the walls. And listen to the rain as it continues ceaselessly. Not quite able to settle down.

Not when so much is happening two hours away. Not when people’s lives are being destroyed and children may still be unaccounted for and disaster crews are clawing at piles of concrete and brick.

So many times in my life, it has boiled down to this. Little towns being picked up by the swirling monster and then thrown back down in a fury. I’ve been listening to tales of tornadoes since I was a child, sitting in the dank cellar, looking at spider webs lit up by the kerosene lamps.

I’d be sleepy and just want to go to bed. But no, you have to wait until the winds have died down. Till the monster has finished its tantrum and disappeared back into the clouds.

It is still, so still, outside. Not a branch on the crepe myrtle outside the window is moving. The rain seems to have stopped for now. But I hear more storms are coming in.

It is the silence that you wait for with bated breath.

It is said that there is often an eerie calm before the storm. That you don’t hear birds or thunder or wind. Just this ominous quiet. Before it strikes.

Please light a candle for Oklahoma tonight. For the weary workmen still giving it their all. For the injured or dying.

Light a candle for the people whose homes are no more. Families that are grieving. Families that are still waiting.

Night will be falling soon. Light a candle for those still hoping for a miracle. They need that beacon of hope to carry them through.