Just Sayin’

We had a lot of fun at the Chalk it Up Art Festival in Broken Arrow, OK this past weekend. The boys even got to draw their own pictures!

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Fire and Rain – James Taylor

Dreams – Fleetwood Mac

Have You Ever Seen the Rain – Creedence Clearwater Revival

Who'll Stop the Rain – Creedence Clearwater Revival

I Love a Rainy Night – Eddie Rabbit

It Can't Rain All the Time – Jane Siberry

November Rain – Guns N Roses

Purple Rain – Prince

Riders on the Storm – The Doors

It's Raining Men

*Language warning*

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When I was 3 years old my parents moved from Dallas, TX to Tulsa, OK. My mom called it Tulsa, Texas for at least 10 or 15 years because she missed Texas.

I grew up in Oklahoma. I have very few memories of living in Texas and I'm not even sure if the ones I do have are from actually living there or just going back to visit.

I grew up in Tulsa. When I graduated from high school I left Tulsa for Norman and the University of Oklahoma where I because a Sooner, born and bred. I was still living in Norman on May 3, 1999 when another devastating tornado tore through.

After college I drifted around the Oklahoma City area. I lived in Oklahoma City, Midwest City, Edmond, and Moore.

I have spent my entire life in the Tornado Corridor that Popular Mechanics named one of the 8 most dangerous places to live, right alongside Haiti and the African Lake of Death.

On May 2, 2002 I was living in Oklahoma City. That tornado came so close I could hear it from my closet. In proper Oklahoman fasion, I was outside on the front porch shooting video when it touched down about a half mile away and the power flashes started.

That's what Oklahomans do. We take cover when we need to, but jump right back up and keep going.

There is a viral video going around of a woman finding her dog in the rubble of her home. (For those of you who don't speak Okie, a stool is a toilet.) The reporter from CBS asked her if she had even started to understand what happened here. Her response was, "I know exactly what happened here!"

And we do. We start from very young with tornado drills in school. Go into the hallway by the lockers, kneel down in a little ball, and put your hands over your head. All in a line just like that.

We know more about weather than the average person. In college, I helped a lot of people in their introductory Meterology classes who had come from out of state to study at the number one meterology school in the country. And I wasn't even taking that class! We know inflows and wall clouds, and updrafts. We know the names of every county and every small town. We even know what the air smells like if a storm is coming that may produce a tornado.

My kids know that when I say there is a storm coming, leave your shoes on, it means it's time to watch the weatherman.

But it's not just about tornados. It's also about people who move in from out of state and make fun of us when we say we aren't going out to drive in 3 inches of snow. Until they realize it's 1/2 an inch of snow over 2 1/2 inches of ice.

It's about the Oklahoma City Bombing, the Trail of Tears, the Land Run. Oklahoma has a rich history, and it's not all pretty.

Every spring people from all over the country flock to Oklahoma to chase storms because they are drawn by the beauty and power of nature.

And what they find is that a tornado can only feel at home in Oklahoma because that same beauty and power is found in her people.

Nothing proves this more than the tradegy in Moore. My old town. My old home destroyed.

Over the past two days I have had a lot of people checking to make sure I am safe. And I am. My family is safe. But my heart is broken.

I work for a company that owns several small town newspapers as their social media specialist for Oklahoma. I spent Sunday night and Monday night on social media reporting the storms. Reporting the devastation. 

I managed to hold it together and do my job.

Until Tuesday morning. When I dropped the boys off at school. I was flooded with thoughts of those children at Plaza Towers Elementary. I was taken back to May 3, 1999 when a friend of mine and I jumped in a car and drove the 5 miles to Moore to find our friends. Make sure they were ok. Because we had no cell service. No phone service. No internet. No tv. 

And I hurt. I hurt for all those people who lost everything. I hurt because I never want to drop my boys off at school and never bring them home again. I hurt because I don't understand why these things happen and I would hurt even if I did. I hurt because in the midst of all the tradegy, a woman who finds her dog can say God answered all her prayers.

When people ask me where I'm from, in the past I have always answered truthfully, but disdainfully. I'm from Oklahoma. No, it's not cool like NYC or hip like LA or cultured like Chicago or Boston or Seattle. No I don't like country music. No I don't drive a truck and no I don't live in a teepee or a log cabin. No, I don't have a horse. No, I'm not a Republican.

What the past two days have taught me is that I am proud to live here. I am proud that I live in a state where people are friendly. I am proud to live in a state that has everything from farmland to oil to museums from plains to forrests, from creeks to rivers.

I am proud to come from a state that can pull together, hurt together, rebuild together.

I am proud to be an Oklahoman.

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I have been contacted by several people asking me how they can help Oklahoma after tonight's storms.

Shawnee, OK was hit last night killing two people.

Moore, OK was hit tonight. Plaza Towers Elementary school is currently conducting a search and recovery mission for 24 missing children in kindergarten through 3rd grade. 37 are confirmed dead and that numer is expected to rise. *The death toll is now up to 51 with many children among the dead. More storms are headed their way tonight.

This may be the most devastating tornado ever.

STORM to 80888 for The Salvation Army USA.

REDCROSS to 90999 for Redcross

FOOD to 32333 for Regional Food Bank of Oklahoma.

Each text is for $10 charged to your phone bill.

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If you've been here a few months you know that Big Brother was having some bullying problems at school. He was being teased and pushed and called a nerd.

Because he likes to read.

So we got an emergency transfer to another school then packed up and moved so my kids could stay at the new school. New apartment. New teachers. New neighbors. Lots of adjustment. And we only moved a couple of miles!

We have been at the new place now for 2 1/2 months and at the new school for 3 months. Yesterday was the 2nd grade awards assembly.

Big Brother got the class award for Rockin' Reader.

Because he likes to read.

And his classmates clapped and celebrated his love of reading as he got the award.

In every struggle, every battle, when you are wandering in that place of wondering if you did the right thing, if you overreacted, if it's over and if you are still struggling, there comes that moment where you realize it was all worth it.

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My kids have three weeks of school left and that means we are on a new precipice. And the final time I will be there. Kindergarden.

Back in 2010 I wrote about how my role as a mom would change when Big Brother started kindergarden.

I was right. It was like from the moment he starteds kindergarden he started this march forward of needing me less and less. Big Brother is finishing up 2nd grade and headed to 3rd. He can pretty much read anything he wants and I'm pretty sure he is better at math than I am. He loves science and art and thinks he looks more mature with holes in the knees of his pants. He refuses to wear jeans. They scratch.

Now it's Little Brother's turn. He will graduate from pre-k in three weeks and start that march of learning that he doesn't need his mom quite so much anymore. I can't tell if it's easier or harder this time. Last time was the first time, but this is the last time.

The last first day of kindergarden.

The last time I will help one of my children learn to read and write.

But not the last time my boys will make me emotional about how fast they are growing up.

And although they need me less, there are new moments we can share. Like catching Big Brother reading a story to Little Brother in a fort they made in their bedroom.

Like piling on my bed and watching The Princess Bride, because they get it now.

Like knowing that even though they need me less, both of my boys still want me to hug them, kiss them, and snuggle with them. All. The. TIme. I'm not sure it gets any better than the ferocious love of a little boy for his mom.

A flashback to August 2010.

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It has taken me a couple of days to really gather my thoughts on what happened in Boston.

When I first heard about the bombings I have to admit my first thought was why on earth would someone want to blow the legs off of people who have spent so much time training to run. I imagined hundreds of runners missing legs and feet.

Luckily things were not as bad as my mind originally pictured. But they were no less tragic.

In the past, national tragedies have had me glued to the news. This time I decided to step away.

After 9-11, after OKC, after Newtown, after Columbine, after teen suicide and rape and bullying, all of these tragedies we deal with on a regular basis, I had to take a step back and evaluate.

This past week the Host Teams at church, which I am a part of talked about what God says about running the race.

1 Corinthians 9:24-27 says:

²⁴ Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. ²⁵ Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. ²⁶ Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. ²⁷ No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.

For those in Boston this week, it was about running. For most of us, it is about just living.

I was really touched by what Single Mom in the South said:

This time I am at loss for words and I find myself floundering and wondering,

 

"What is this world coming to?"

And I want to sweep my children up and carry them off and keep them safe, because it doesn't feel like they are safe anywhere.

They cannot fly safely on a plane.

Or go safely to school.

And now they cannot even run down the street safely.

It's not even just tragedies like this.

It's bickering over religion.

And politics.

And I worry and wonder if we are all going to be okay.

The reality is, we are not safe. It doesn't matter what kinf of gun control laws we have. If someone wants to kill someone else, they will find a way with bombs or swords or rocks. People have been doing it since the beginning of time.

But people are not the only threats. There are natural disasters and mechanical failures and illnesses.

The fact is, no one will get out of this world alive.

I'm not trying to be all doomsday. That's not my intention, but sometimes you have to put things in perspective.

As I looked at my boys after Newtown, my heart just ached. There were no thoughts. No words. Just a concern for safety.

This time I thought about the marathon running dad who more than likely had a healthy family. Who lost his son. Whose daughter lost a leg. Whose wife has a serious brain injury. And I think how nothing for him will ever be normal again.

I think of the Iraqi war veteran who ran 26.2 miles and an hour later was in his new battlefield as a trauma surgeon. For three grueling days he made decisions about amputations and saving lives.

This time I look at my boys and know that I can't save them from tragedy. I can't rid the world of all the monsters that lurk here.

This time I know that what I can do is prepare them. I can prepare them to be the ones who stay to help. The ones who give their time, their resources, their strength, their hearts, their prayers, their ears.

We can move forward because there are people willing to help. There are people willing to pick up the pieces. There are people willing to push past exhaustion and make a difference. There are people willing to do what they can to help others, to pray, and even to just listen.

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