Home.

I am devastated by what happened to my state yesterday. I have lived in tornado alley my whole life but nothing can prepare you for the images of destruction  and stories of loss that a massive tornado can cause. 

When hearing that the weather was beginning to turn ugly on Monday afternoon, my co-workers and I decided to leave work to seek shelter at home. I frantically drove through heavy rain and hail north of Oklahoma City to my parents house. Even though my apartment and friend's homes were much closer, there is nowhere that I feel safer than the home that I grew up in. As soon as I arrived home, my mom and I began to see the coverage of the live tornado ripping through Moore, an all too familiar image. I vividly remember the May 3, 1999 tornado that hit this same area and the feelings of fear and sadness rushed over me again. After the tornado passed through, the aftermath began to show up on the TV screen. My mom and I were about to leave for the grocery store when the images of the flattened neighborhoods and demolished schools were shown. Overcome with grief, we sat, and from then on we were glued to the couch with tears in our eyes for the remainder of the evening. 

It wasn't until later in the evening, when we couldn't watch anymore of the news, that my parents and I drove to News Channel 9 to drop off a few donations. The scene when we arrived was like that at the end of the movie Field of Dreams. Cars were lined up through the station driveway, down the street, and around the corners of all surrounding streets. All you could see was a long line of headlights in the dark. A long line of heartbroken, compassionate, and giving Oklahomans, waiting patiently to respond the only way we know how when adversity hits our state. We band together, we rush to give and help, pray, and then actively seek out more ways to give and help. I love this place. I love this state. I pray for Moore. 

Pray. Pray. And pray some more.