dramatic thoughts on tornados

after the stormSo, our Friday night had some unexpected excitement. Like gather-the-family-and-head-to-the-basement-because-a-big-tornado-is-coming-excitement. If excitement is the right word for it.

Probably more like stressing the heck out because we are hippies that don’t have a TV and apparently also unprepared hippies because we lacked a working flashlight, too and WHERE’S THE DOG and DO WE HAVE A NON-IPHONE-RADIO and WHY AREN’T WE DISASTER-READY?!

I’m a little dramatic, if you didn’t know this about me.

The sirens were blaring and the baby was crying and Joseph was zooming around in his Lightning McQueen jammies, STOKED that he was narrowly avoiding bedtime for bonus playtime. And I was hustling around the basement like a madwoman, scouting the best place to duck and cover and imagining ALL OF THE THINGS flying through the air during the impending twister.

Thank the good Lord Jesus for a calm husband who plugged in a radio and dutifully headed upstairs to get diapers and wipes because there’s no way his wife was going into the danger zone to change a diaper.

THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

Looking back, I could see how you could see the humor in the situation.

But it was kind of scary.

I’m a born-and-bred in the Midwest girl, but this was my first experience with a tornado-on-the-ground-heading-your-way warning as a mom. Normally I would have been like, “Oh wells. Let’s make popcorn and sit on the couch downstairs and catch up on Netflix.” But instead, I had this mama bear instinct of “Hunker down under the stairs and barricade the doors and I have to pee so bad but I’m holding it because I will throw my body over you and PROTECT YOU.”

The tornado was close, but missed our little town. Neighboring towns + farms + homes + businesses didn’t fare quite so well.

And you know what I’m reminded of? Something so simple but so big: Things don’t matter. Never once in my dramatic thoughts did I think, Oh! Better go grab my stuff to save it from the tornado barreling toward us!

I’m so thankful for our house, but my family is what makes it home. (Run and tell that.)

Because at the end of the day, when my overactive imagination sees the end-of-the-world scenario happening, things didn’t matter.

We don’t need bigger, newer, shinier. Stuff is stuff. Stuff gets spilled on and becomes old and dusty and all the things of this world fade away.

But one thing remains: A hope that things will be OK. The reminder that we’re made in the image of a creator that works without taking breaks to bring us to him and save us from the disasters of ourselves. People matter BIG TIME to God. And to us. Kingdom living means investing our time and our resources and our hearts into people FOR HIS GLORY. We love because He first loved us.

And the earth shook and the rain fell and the sun came out.

It always does.

‘Take heart! I’ve overcome the world.” John 16:33

31 days of living the kingdom at home

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About Kayla

I'm a full-time journalist turned work-at-home writer. I'm hitched to a shaggy-haired pastor and we're smitten with two wild + crazy boys: Joseph (3), who joined our family via international adoption, and Asher (1), who came the old-fashioned way. I drink strong coffee, I like pretty things, and I believe there's beauty in the broken. I hope Many Sparrows will encourage you to find worth and live a story worth sharing. When I’m not changing diapers and sweeping Cheerios, I’m tickling the ivory keys of my old school MacBook as a freelance writer and editor. And when I’m not doing that, I’m sneaking into the living room in the wee hours of the night to blog about all of the things. (Primarily faith, family, style, adoption, design, and happy thoughts.)
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