Brokenness Redeemed-Life Updates-YOU are in Our House!

It’s been almost a year since a tornado radically changed our lives, and we still talk about the storm like it just happened. It feels like it just happened, and we measure time in relation to it…“Was that before the storm or after?”

Sorting through the emotions of an event like this has been….interesting. The very night brought instant terror, elation and devastating heartbreak, all in a matter of minutes as we shuttered through the experience you think only happens to other people, then realized the miracle of living through it, then grieved over the news of friends snatched away from us, joined by the weight of losing everything normal in life.

And still, after all this time, all those emotions rise and fall, dance and collapse, invading in waves as one day we feel all gratitude for life, and the next just death, change and destruction.

So it is a part of life, and I’m sure all of you have walked similar paths, rejoicing and grieving all at the same time. The Lord is so good to bring us here, though, to teach us about Him, His steadfastness so starkly apparent against the backdrop of life’s uncertainties.

Life will always be uncertain. Storms can come any time, in any form, and we must hold loosely to the things, yes, even the people we love so much, and remember that things here are all “hay and stubble”, while souls and legacies survive the severest of storms.

Trees. (This is a tiny snapshot of the view behind our house. Try to imagine that the panoramic view is spread across miles…literally thousands of “tooth-pick” trees as far as one can see.) In a rural place like where we live, a tornado of the magnitude we experienced did so much damage it’s impossible to imagine the sight. And while “they’re just trees”, somehow, it feels like more. Something I’m not able to fully articulate. Someone mentioned that the ugliness “slaps you in the face” every time you drive through, reminding us of that awful night. I think that’s it. The sight jars in me actual sensory reminders of that night and again, the gamut of emotions are hard to sort through.

The heavens still declare His majesty over the mess, a visible testimony of His sovereignty and faithfulness when life around us looks upside down. Leaning against our porch rail, taking a work break, the evening’s view softens the angst. This picture was taken just a few days ago, almost a year after the storm.

So we just brought the trees inside! Every piece of wood is a “brokenness redeemed”. Walking across the very floors is a walk across a story…our story mingled with the numerous faces, hands and hearts so full of love, they spilled all over us and are etched in every board and every nail.

You! Them! There are so many! Do you know that I lie awake at night grieving for all the notes I know I didn’t write? For the addresses misplaced? For the people about whom I didn’t even know? I still think of the details…the healing words written in cards, the gifts made and sent with love, the warmth and the compassion that so surrounded us for so long…I meditate on you all daily….even now.

Do you find even the smallest joy in knowing that I am visibly reminded of your love every time I look at this house? Do you know that so many will “live here” with us? Many dear friends we know and many more we do not. Do my tears, even as I write, thank you enough?

You may remember that the fateful day began with my healthy, spry Dad brushing death in a hospital that morning. Incapable of coherent thoughts in my terror, my lips began uttering, “God is mighty to save…God is mighty to save…” all the way to the OR as I jogged behind the gurney.

You might guess which words came first, just a few hours later, sitting in a cold, dark basement that dripped with water?

So I painted the words on this barn door, a surviving artifact of my father’s. I want our home to breathe His faithfulness and His compassion.

And every visitor who enters will surely hear the story, won’t they? And I will tell them about you. You are forever a part of telling HIS story.

I pray that makes you as happy as it makes me.

Update:

We are working furiously to finish our house to be able to move. My husband is working day and night (sometimes a “real” job during the day), and the older children and I are taking turns assisting. We still have a few volunteers pulling late, late nights as well. (Wave to Kyle and Ben!) We are doing well just busy, busy!

Several of you have inquired about the Lees, our dear friends and neighbors whose father went home the night of the storm. They have found a quiet place a few hours from here and we are so happy for them, yet grieving for yet another change. They are doing well, it seems, but this valley will never be the same without them.