Images of Imma-Jane and Lucy!: Our Night with the Twister: Living Through the North Texas Tornadoes

The events of last night are still surreal; even as I sit in a warm, safe hotel room, surrounded by my family, knowing that my home is perfectly fine except for some missing shingles and a bowed out front door, I oscillate between questioning my own mortality and praising Jesus that it wasn't much, much worse. Somewhere amongst those variations are the thoughts that we could all be gone right now, that we could have all been completely spared, that we could be lying beneath a pile of rubble, that we could be home watching a family movie.... Regardless of where we could be, this is where we are--by the grace of God.
Yesterday was a pretty typical day-after Christmas. I am not a big fan of December 26th, never have been. I'd skip it all together if I could. It marks the beginning of the end of the holiday season, and I'd just as soon have winter be over altogether once Christmas has departed. So I slept in. I read a lot. And then I went upstairs to watch a movie, Aladdin, with two little girls who had spent most of the day playing with their new toys. I knew there was some sever weather in the area, whatever that means, but I have often been of the opinion that if a tornado did touch down, there was very little chance it would be anywhere near my house. So I invited my husband to come with us. But he declined, stoically staying outside where he could "keep an eye on things."
The genie hadn't even made his first appearance when my husband came upstairs and told us we needed to get downstairs now. The girls didn't want to come, having no idea why they should be alarmed. He said there were tornadoes on the ground in a city about twenty miles from us. I thought there was no reason to panic; we'd likely be fine, but I paused the movie and took the girls downstairs. They have spent a few minutes in the bathtub on a few other occasions and had no reason to think this would be any different than the last. We'd be upstairs before we knew it, watching Aladdin save the day.
Let me pause for a second to remember my own childhood. We had a basement in my mom's house, and I remember spending a few evenings down there waiting for storms to pass. I remember one frantic night my mom was out searching for us because she wasn't sure if we were with my dad or at my grandma's house--the sirens were going off when she burst through the door and grabbed my brother and me, taking us home to the always safe basement beneath our sturdy brick house. My dad didn't have a basement, and I distinctly remembering spending a few hours in a closet one time as he went in and out, checking to see if the storm had passed. I was terrified that time because there were bricks in the closet, and I was sure we would be buried beneath them for days. I was never in a house that got hit by a tornado, and I never saw a tornado, but I have had hundreds of dreams where I am looking out a window of a familiar house--my own, the one I grew up in, my grandma's, etc.--and there is a twister headed straight for me. I often try to hide, and sometimes I make it into a basement or beneath a stairwell, but sometimes I am sucked up into it, or a loved one is pulled away from my arms. I have always been afraid of tornadoes. But as I said, I never really came face to face with one--until last night.
But yesterday, I wasn't panicked. I didn't think for a moment that we would actually get hit by a tornado. I did the things I could to make sure my family was safe. We don't have a single interior room and only one with no windows. Because of the direction the storm was coming from, Brian told me to take the girls to our bathroom. Even though there is a large window, he thought it would be safer for them to be in the bathtub. So I put them in the bathtub with some toys, threw some blankets over them, grabbed some pillows, and waited. About five minutes later, my husband came running in and said there were power flashes on the ground. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I guessed it wasn't good. I could hear the wind picking up around us. I was still skeptical. He told me to lay down over the top of Lucy and he covered up Imma. I did as I was told, still thinking this was not happening. The next thing I knew, the whole house was shaking. I've heard people say that tornadoes sound like trains--it's true, they do. It was as if the Polar Express had shown up a couple of days too late. The windows were rattling, and I could hear all sorts of things hitting the house from every direction. I was waiting--waiting for the debris to hit, for the house to crumble, for the window to break, for the storm to attempt to rip my child from my very fingers. Then, after about ten to fifteen seconds, it was all over. I looked around, looked at my family, looked out the window. I could see all sorts of paraphernalia whipping about outside. And then I saw it--the twister--at least part of it, illuminated by lightning, and it appeared to be taking out our neighbors' house.
I had my phone in my pocket, and I pulled it out to call 9-1-1 as my husband ran outside to survey the damage. I let the responder know we were fine, but I was worried about my neighbors, and he sent help immediately. I went out into the living room, expecting there to be damage. There was very little. The doors had blown open--the backdoor and side door--and there were Christmas ornaments littering the ground, along with leaves and other debris. Other than that, the inside of house appeared to be fine. I thought it must have been a small tornado--nothing too horrible. I began to calm down a bit, hoping everything was fine.
My husband had gone outside, and even before he came back in to tell me, a sickening feeling hit me as I began to hear screams from across the street. Brian came back in and said, "It's bad--it's really bad." The gas station across the street from us was leveled. There were people trapped under the rubble. Our neighbors' houses across the street were falling over. The fireworks stand nearly toppled, trailers on their sides. Cars had been moved ten, twenty feet. Our yard was full of debris. We couldn't see the extent of it at the time, but it seemed to be everywhere. The top of the gatehouse, right outside of our yard, was missing. But the worst were the screams. And there was not much we could do. I stayed with the girls, and Brian went out to help. The first responders began to arrive, stopping at the gas station first; certainly this was the place where they were most needed. It turns out our neighbors next door had very little damage--two houses beyond that, the roof was torn off. This must have been what I saw from my window.
I'm glad I couldn't see what was happening at the gas station.
Two people died last night right across the street from my family as we were huddled in the bathtub. As I stood there bracing myself for the worst. praying aloud that Jesus would keep my family safe, another family was being crushed inside a convenience store. Our neighbors were in their hallway in a small wooden home, shaking for fear of the same thing happening to them. And this same angry storm would march up the road about twenty miles and claim the life of a newborn baby.
Tornadoes are finicky. They will demolish one house, skip a couple, take out a brick structure, leave a mobile home standing. My daughter claims they have eyes, that they are hunting, and that you must stay completely still and hide for them not to see you. While the thought is terrifying, I almost wish it was something so simple--something we could control. If everyone is still, then no one will get hurt. But it doesn't have eyes, and there is no way of knowing why my family was spared while others were destroyed. There's no way of knowing why we lost a few shingles while the sweet mother of a friend lost everything she had collected in eighty years of pious living.
We did what people do after catastrophes; we looked for people. The firefighters, EMTs, and police workers were doing their best to save those people across the street, and they got to a few of them in time. We didn't get in their way--we stood with our other neighbors and prayed. We talked about the things we couldn't believe--like how both of our trashcans full of garbage from Christmas, each weighing over sixty pounds, were completely gone while the glass patio table was just fine. People on the highway had stopped--they had to since there were first responders everywhere and downed power lines. Some of them got out of their cars and wandered around, almost as overwhelmed as we were. Others turned around, determined to find another path through. It was reassuring to see people--other lucky people like us. We shook our heads and mumbled about the things that didn't really matter, thanking God that we were alive, praying for the injured and for those still in the path of the storm.
With no power and two scared little girls, we decided to find a hotel for the night. It took a while to get out of our neighborhood, but even a few hours after the tornado had passed, I'm sure my eyes were still agape as we passed by the sight of the worst destruction. The gas station, daycare center, feed store, and at least four houses across the street were almost completely gone. It looked as if a bomb had gone off a few feet from our home.
None of us slept well last night. The girls had bad dreams--I could tell by the way they tossed and turned. I had some not so pleasant ones as well, though they were not of tornadoes. Even subconsciously, I was asking the deeper questions. Why were we okay when others were not? Was our home really unharmed, and if so, how was that fair?
But there's no fair--there's no distinguishing what one did or did not do to "deserve" a pardon from a tornado. Did I pray harder than the sweet old man who lost his life across the street? I doubt it. Were we in a more strongly built home? Possibly. But I think we just caught the corner of what we now know was an EF2 or EF3 tornado estimated to be about a half a mile wide. It jumped and twirled and danced its way down the street in a macabre fashion, leaving those who prayed hard and those who didn't pray at all equally victimized or absolved in its wake. I do thank God that we are okay, but I don't think that my prayers had anything to do with it. I do think that mercy had everything to do with it. We didn't deserve to die; we didn't deserve to be spared. The same can be said for the victims who lost everything.
We are about to embark on our second night of our hotel stay. I have two little girls who are afraid of loud noises, afraid it's another "tormato" out to get them. They are bored, they are confused, they are tired. They want to go home and play with their Christmas presents. They don't understand what "the power" is and why it being out has anything to do with them. And while they will probably be terrified of "tormatoes" for the rest of their lives, they do not understand the gravity of what they've just been through, a detail I am thankful for.
Today, I feel lucky, and thankful, and blessed, and humbled. I am thankful for good friends who volunteered their time to help, though there's not much anyone can do right now. I am prayerful for the people who still need our prayers--and our money, donations, and time. I am hopeful that those missing pets will find them soon and thankful that while we are missing a chicken, our dogs are safe. Our children are safe. And in the daylight today, we were able to determine that our home is safe.
We will have to wait for insurance adjusters to survey our damage to minor things--like shingles and the fence--but other people have no home; they have loved ones that were ripped from their fingertips. They have lost everything. Those people need our prayers and whatever we can give. What do I need? Well, right now, I will certainly accept prayers for my children, that they feel safe and loved, that they can go home soon. Other than that, the only other thing I may need is something I can only give myself--absolution. And like everyone who has ever asked the questions, "Why me? Why not me?" that will take time. Please continue to pray for the victims of the tornadoes in all of the communities effected this week. In Texas, that includes Garland, Rowlett, Blue Springs, Sunnyvale, Ovilla, and my small town of Copeville. If you can, please donate to the Red Cross or any of the GoFundMe accounts set up, like the one for my former student's family, which you can find here. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and God bless each of you and keep you safe.