Friday night with friends: Tupelo Tornado: Giving and Taking

Friday nights are usually reserved for guest bloggers. Today, I learned of something that must be shared. It has left me utterly astounded, and I expect it will you, as well. 

In the tornado, an elderly woman's home was ravaged by the wind and falling trees. By comparison to some people, her loss is small, at least in terms of dollars. In the economy standard that Christ used on seeing the widow's mite, she has lost the most of all, for she has lost essentially everything she owned, and has no way to replace it. She tried to carry on in the three rooms of her house that were still standing, until one of those rooms collapsed. After that, she carried on in the two remaining rooms.  She has had no running water, and friends and church members have hauled water to her. 

Her house cannot be salvaged, and a local relief organization has promised to build her a new one. A friend from her church has an empty house into which she was to move today to wait until the new one is ready. Her new home will likely be the nicest she has ever had. People from her church and others who know her have worked tirelessly to provide for her needs. There has been great joy in the planning, and offers of essentials have been generously given. 

One very dear woman had inherited furniture from her parents, as well as other family members. She and her husband had stored it all in a rented storage room. When they heard of the need, they agreed it was one they could meet. What joy they had in giving her mother's lovely bedroom furniture to this elderly woman who has such great loss and such overwhelming need! 

The furniture was examined in the storage room, pronounced perfect, and moved close to the door for easy access in a day or so. Arrangements were made to have the furniture cleaned and "refreshed" a bit. When they returned at the appointed time to pick it up in order to have it ready for today, they found that someone had been there before them. Thieves had broken in and stolen the bedroom furniture set aside for this sweet woman, as well as many other pieces that were stored there.  As you might imagine, the lady and her husband are devastated. 

It boggles my mind. The furniture has been stolen. Who would do that? Why would they steal furniture? It certainly seems as if "quick profit" would be difficult from this kind of thievery, but nonetheless, this thievery has happened. When her pastor was notified, he wisely said, "We will find something else that will do."   I hope he did. 

The thieves caused a very real loss, but the couple who have been burglarized have not lost what matters most. They were storing up treasures in heaven with their willing gift, and those who broke in to their storage building could not steal that. 

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (Matthew 6:19-21 NASB)

As for that elderly woman, God will make a way for her to have what she needs. I'm not sure how, but I'm confident He will. 

Tupelo Tornado: A Matter of Priority

The previous owner of my home planted additional azaleas every spring, stretching into the woods surrounding the small lake behind the house. I have continued the tradition, planting extravagantly some years, but at least a few plants every year. You may not be able to tell it from this picture, but, after more than two decades of planting, I now have acres of azaleas that are simply beautiful. 

Those lovely azaleas were just beginning to bloom in late April. In fact, the weekend before the tornado, the reports of bad weather in the forcast had me concerned. My greatest fear was that wind, rain, or hail might disturb my precious blooms. Not once did I consider that the coming storms might bring death and destruction in their wake. 

The morning of April 28, 2014, I stopped on my way to the car to look at the azaleas that were beginning to bloom.  Heading to work, I fretted about the blooms. I wanted the full dose of extravagant color again this year. Less than twelve hours and one big tornado later, those blooms had lost their hold on my attention. In fact, if there were blooms after that morning, I never saw them. 

That morning, azalea blooms were high on my list of priorities. That evening, the priority list included the safety of friends and family, recovery after the terrible destruction of homes and property in this part of our state, gratitude for my own safety. Azaleas were off the list completely.  

Don't get me wrong. My priorities are usually in pretty good order, and there is nothing wrong with enjoying the azaleas or hoping the blooms will survive. Azaleas, however, need to come after concerns about safety for the people in our area, not before. 

If the truth were told, most of us could use a little work on our priority lists, couldn't we? If you were to list your priorities in order of importance, what would be on the list? If you listed your priorities in order of how you spent your time and money, how would the list look?  

This evening, use a few minutes to examine your life. Take a serious look at  where you invest your money, your time, your energy. Are those priorities the ones you meant to have? Don't wait for another disaster to make adjustments in your priorities.  Make them now. You, as well as the ones who should be at the top of your list, will be glad you did. 

Tupelo Tornado: giving and receiving

She was born in 1929, the thirteenth of fourteen children. When the deadly tornado of 1936 came through Tupelo, killing more than 200 people and destroying much of the town, she was only seven years old. Her home was destroyed and she and her family walked 19 miles to stay with relatives whose home was intact. 

She laughed as she told me about being the thirteenth child.  "I always said that made me lucky, and I guess it did. I've been through two tornados and lived to tell about it. At least I still have a roof over my head this time. I'd hate to walk nineteen miles now." 

Seventy-eight years later, the tornado of 2014 roared through Tupelo and almost completely destroyed her home again. Although a few walls are still standing, the house has been condemned and she is in dire need of a new home. In good health for an 85-year old woman, she is unwilling to leave the land and home she loves. 

 Fiercely independent, she has made her own way all her life. She was betrayed early by a philandering husband, left to raise two young sons by herself, and did a fine job of it. She has never taken help before, and doesn't want to take help now. Her church has been generous, but even their help has been hard for her. I suspect she's much better at giving than receiving. 

We talked at length about allowing people to help. The blessing would be greater for them than for her, I tried to assure her. She didn't see it like that. Taking help from strangers just isn't her way, she insisted. We went back and forth, but she wasn't budging. 

After a while, I ran out of new arguments, and, to both our surprise, tears started trickling down my face. "When we give to you, we are doing it for Jesus, and we want to do for Him because He's been so good to us. Can you understand that feeling?" She nodded her head as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "The man who will help with your house is my friend and I trust him. He's not a stranger to me. Can't you please let him do this for Jesus?" We were both weepy as she started nodding her head. I hugged her, took a deep breath, and started looking for some Kleenex. 

Being on the receiving end of great generosity cannot be easy for one as independent as this sweet lady. She's never had much, and doesn't need much, she has tried to explain. She can make do with what she has. That's true. She can make do, but she doesn't have to this time. A portion of the body of Christ feels called to help her, and I'm not sure she can avoid it. 

Her persistent refusal to accept help that seems heaven-sent was a little frustrating, and I've been left wondering how often God has tried to help me without success because of my own stubbornness. How often has He wept over my refusal to allow Him to change my life for the better? 

How often has He longed to change your life, but was unable to do so because you refused Him?

I've thought a lot about giving and receiving today, and I've realized something very important. It is always more blessed to give than receive, unless God is doing the giving. In that case, we would do well to accept all He wants to give. 

Tupelo Tornado: Battered but blessed, part 2

Last night, I wrote about an elderly woman and her son who requires custodial care. She has spent a lifetime caring for others with a heart full of love and hands open with generosity.  Her losses in the recent tornado were devastating. She and her son have been making do in the two rooms of her home that are still standing, daylight visible through one of the remaining walls. Her church family had been providing meals, water, clothing. They had secured a tarp on her roof and provided dry mattresses.

There was one other thing they had been doing. Although the elderly woman and her son had no idea, church leaders had quickly realized that the needs were far greater than their small congregation could meet. They decided to do the only thing that made any sense at all. They asked God to send help, and lots of it. In fact, they asked God to send enough help to meet all the needs. 

This morning, I learned about their prayers and today, I watched with joy as the answer began to unfold. The director of the brotherhood ministry for their county and the pastor from another church went to assess the situation at the request of someone unrelated to her church. The house is a total loss. The man from the brotherhood "just happened" to have blueprints for a small house that meets all the codes in our state. They contacted the woman's praying pastor, who was thrilled to hear from them. A member of his congregation had offered to provide concrete for the foundation as well as the plumbing. One part of the project after another came together. 

By early afternoon, there was amazing news!  I was told that, if volunteers will do the work, a new home can be built for them and likely completed in thirty days! A work crew has already been making plans for finishing touches, interior design, and landscaping. 

How's that for answered prayer?  

Friends have helped her gather what could be salvaged and the bulldozer work has begun. She and her son will live in a small apartment until their new home is ready. I can't wait to see their faces when they see inside their finished home for the first time. I hope they are as thrilled as those who are a part of making it happen. 

This answered prayer has not come because of government intervention or FEMA provision (both of which are very helpful to those in need). It appears, at this point, that their home will be built without any disaster relief funding at all. It has come directly from the hand of God through the body of Christ working together as Jesus intended. How do you like that? 

People with hearts full of compassion have looked around, seen her and her son's need, and embraced their suffering. They are giving from their hearts, and making a difference for those who are hurting. They are not waiting around. Instead, they have set to work and are accomplishing great things in a very short time. 

These volunteers understand what we all need to realize. None of us can meet every need, but all of use can meet some need. When we work together, and all do our part, no need should be left unmet. The question we all should answer is, "What need will be unmet without my help?" Dear ones, how can we turn aside from the one depending on us? Let's step up and do what only we can do. 

Don't hesitate. Look for a need you can meet and get started. When it gets too big, ask God for help, but don't stop until all the need is met and the rejoicing is done. 

Tupelo Tornado: Battered but blessed

An elderly lady who has spent a lifetime providing custodial care for her very sweet son had just returned home from a visit to his doctor when the tornado roared through their area. In seconds, it ravaged their home. When the raging stopped, they were imprisoned in their simple house, trapped by the trees that usually provided summertime shade. Not only did their home sustain major damage, but also their older model car, which was flattened by a falling tree. 

Part of the roof was gone but the doors were held tight by the trees. It was not until the next day that this frail woman managed to use a crowbar to pry open a door so they could escape. Surveying the damage, she found that, although she had lost almost all her worldly possessions, there were two rooms that were still somewhat inhabitable. Daylight was visible along one wall, but the roof and other walls were relatively intact. 

With no way to drive for help, all she could do was pray and ask God to send the things they so desperately needed, and that is exactly what He did.  Friends from her church came to check on them. Teams of men helped cut trees, clear debris, and secure a tarp to cover the damaged roof. Church members brought food and fresh water, as well as new clothing. Someone brought dry mattresses. Over the last few days, her electricity has been restored and, though non-potable, they have running water again.  

She has worked hard all her life, and, at more than 80 years old, still manages to provide everything they need. Until now. She has no debt, but her resources are nearly non-existent. Her homeowners insurance was cancelled, she said, because her house is heated by an old space heater. She has no idea what the future holds, but she has anchored her hope in the One who has provided for every need for the better part of a century.  

When asked how they've been doing, both she and her son give the same quick answer. "We are so blessed. You can't believe how good God has been to us!" They are incredibly grateful to have two inhabitable rooms. There is not one complaint about the rooms that are not inhabitable. There is not one complaint about all she has lost. 

Listening to her, I wanted to weep in shame. I, who have so much, have not been grateful enough nor concerned enough about those who have lost so much. I recognize that life's storms, if allowed, will be used to make us stronger, more resilient, more Christlike. I have no doubt that this storm will work such a result in this dear woman's life. Already, she has seen God's hand at work. Teams are being assembled to assess the damage at her home and, if I'm not sadly mistaken, a safer, more secure home will be built to replace the one she has lost. I don't yet know how that will happen, but I plan to see it does. 

The question for those of us who were not affected by recent tornados is what difference will this storm make in my life? In our lives? Will we be more giving, more Christlike, more passionate about being the hands and feet of Christ? Oh dear ones, we must not allow the suffering of our friends and neighbors to be wasted. It can be like a seed planted by streams of water, growing a tree of fruitfulness in our hearts that yields results for years to come. It can be, if we let it. 

Look around you, see the need, and embrace the suffering. Give from your heart, and make a difference for those who are hurting. Don't wait, dear ones, do good now. 

Tornado in Tupelo:report from the safe room

It was deadly silent a few minutes ago, but now we hear the blowing. It is insanely loud, and I don't really like this sound at all. 

It seems like half an eternity ago, but surely it was less, that I received an alert on my phone.  "Tornado warning in effect. Take shelter immediately."  I, who have never darkened the door of a storm shelter before, herded the four nurses here into the biohazard room.  I'm so very glad I did.

Now, I am enclosed in the safest place in our office building with four of our nurses. As we handed out blankets and settled ourselves on the floor, Cathy laughed and said, "We could sing Kumbaya..."  We all laughed with her, but there was already a song playing in my head. You might know it. 

"Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus. How I've proved you o'er and o'er. Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus. Oh for grace to trust you more."

I don't know who wrote it at the moment, but it has turned this little safe room into a sacred place. 

I can see deep concern on the faces of these nurses I have grown to love so dearly, and maybe there is also a little fear. For lack of anything better to do, I began to tell about another time when I wasn't quite safe. 

As I talked about that refining fire that I faced as a 21 year old girl on the border of Honduras and El Salvador, gunfire clearly audible around me, I explained that it was a defining moment in my life. I found there was solid rock inside me and I understood who I was at the deepest point. I do not have to be afraid because I know whose I am. Life is not about my stuff. I don't know what I said, or if it helped them, but it has helped to settle me. 

We have laughed. We have prayed. We have text'd messages to those we love. We have taken phone calls from worried family members. I have started a blog post from our safe room. 

Just as I wrote a letter to my family with final words from that village so long ago, I stop to text my son something he can remember. Just in case. "I love you," I write. That's not enough. Just in case, I send another message. "I'm counting on you to be the man God created you to be."  I can't imagine what he thinks, but I do not know that we will leave this room alive. 

A few minutes ago, we heard an eerie knocking. I went to investigate and found the front door open and banging back and forth. It is as black as night outside.  The wind sucked the door out of my hand. It was a battle to close it, and I thought, "This is not good. Not good at all."  I've locked all but one door, and as I headed back to our makeshift shelter, I hoped that someone could find us if the tornado hit here. 

My sister has called to give up updates as she watches the weather reports. Her heart is broken as she recounts the path of the tornado through this big-hearted town. WTVA has sent their people to the safe room. They are in the path of the storm. They broadcast until the moment they didn't. Off the air. She doesn't know what has happened but that horridly loud sound, that deadly silence, the noise again make us think the worst. I'm afraid it is the worst. 

----

At last, we emerge, a little shakily as we stand on legs that have been folded long enough to be numb. Cars are driving. The air is clear and still. Limbs and leaves are everywhere, but we are unharmed. 

Safe. We are safe. What a lovely little word. I haven't appreciated it nearly enough, but I do now. There's another word I grew to love today. Spared. We were spared, and, though I have no idea what destruction the tornado has left behind, I know that being spared will make a lifetime of difference. 

(There is extensive destruction. Reports are only now coming out. Prayers are needed. We do not yet know about injuries and deaths.)