Yesterday, I found myself bending down, picking up, raising up, walking over, tossing into, and repeating.  Maybe you are reading that last sentence and wondering:  WHAT?

Two days ago, a tornado touched down in our town, and it traveled into the path of my niece’s home.  We were out of town at the time, enduring a freakish sandstorm that appeared at first to be a rainstorm coming.  Then we knew the truth:  The rain was really sand, and the tornado was really on the ground and creating a path of destruction.

As I drove toward town, I struggled to know the way to drive, for so many roads were closed.  Finally, I reached the closest spot I could find to park my Subaru, and then began to walk.  Truly, I was frightened, for electric lines sagged, touching down, and laying across yards.  “This is probably not a good idea,” I thought as I stepped over line after line, but there seemed to be no other way to reach her home.

• Devastation.
• Destruction.
• A capital MESS.
• Debris littered the yard everywhere you could see.

Some piles existed where others had already begun the work of cleaning up the storm damage, but what I recall doing first was walking over to hug her tight, treasuring the way she felt as I wrapped her body in my arms, thankful she was safe, her husband, and all of her children.