We're Not in Kansas...

We awoke early that morning. Tyler crept into our room at 5am and after hugs, kisses, and a brief snuggle, Carl escorted the munchkin back to his room to at least wait for the sun to get up. I drifted in and out of sleep for the next 45 minutes. It was raining and storming but it didn't really start to interfere with my thoughts until the lightning seemed extremely bright and unusually repetitive. Carl and I laid there chatting, working up the energy to start the day when the rain suddenly became very intense. I was sure it would pelt itself right through the window. When the power snapped off, Carl and I hopped out of bed and I went to the kitchen window to peer out at the storm that was starting to make me feel uncomfortable. My heart quickened when I realized I could see nothing but white. It looked the way I imagine a white squall would. Our young maple tree was blowing completely horizontal and I couldn't see the field behind our house at all which is just a few yards behind us. In fact, I couldn't really see our grass either. There were snaps and cracks and and the eery sound of low thunder with a high pitched whistling wind. I could hear the sucking sound. Panicked, Carl and I ran to the boys' room and each grabbed a kid. As I pulled Connor into my arms, he awoke and surprisingly asked, "Mom, is it an emergency?" I never thought my answer to a question like that would be yes. "Yes, Sweetie, it kind of is." Just a couple weeks prior we'd had a family home evening lesson on emergency preparedness. We'd talked about 72 hour kits and how if there was ever an emergency we'd grab our bags, get in the van, and go. Connor reminded us at 6am as we ran for the hallway, that we needed to grab those bags and get out of here. I tried to explain that sometimes there were emergencies that required you to stay home and hide. We fell to our knees, begged protection from Heavenly Father and waited. Within seconds, the whirring and the ripping sounds ceased and we knew the storm had moved on.

Walking back to our bedroom, I opened the blinds, afraid of what I would see. I didn't expect this:

Our neighbor's fence had been blown right out of it's concrete footing and laid down flat on the ground. The garage door of the spec house kitty corner to us hung suspended horizontally. It was still raining but the threat was gone so we went outside to inspect the damage. It ripped the fascia on one eave of our roof and had mutilated our garage door. Looking closer, we could also see where it had thrown the garage window in and created a pressure differential and consequently tried to suck out the ceiling. There is currently a rip through the drywall in the ceiling almost the whole length of the garage. What followed is all sort of a blur. We met all of our neighbors in the street as we all surveyed what had happened with no warning. We knew there were supposed to be storms but there was no warning that an F-2 tornado would be stretching across the southern part of Cullman County. In retrospect, it was nothing compared to what was to come. We did our best to check on ward members and tried to get through on cell phones but service was splotchy at best and we were trapped so to speak in our little neighborhood because there were large trees blocking the roads. We were also touched by the flow of phone calls that came wondering if we were ok. A few hours later we were able to exit the neighborhood and we headed to Wal-Mart for a couple extra loaves of bread, granola bars, and a box of pop-tarts. We had plenty of food but I wanted to grab a few more things for convenience sake just in case the power was out for longer than a day. We were surprised as we explored on foot/tricycle at the strength of the winds.

A phone call from a friend alerted us that there was more expected and it was going to be worse. After taking the garage door off so that we could get our vehicles out, Carl decided he needed to go in to work. In his absence, J called again to tell me number 2 was on it's way and was expected to hit my area in 10 minutes. My pulse quickened again. I hung up the phone and tossed folding chairs and a vacuum out of the coat closet near the middle of our house. I tried calling Carl at work to tell him to find shelter. We'd spoken only moments before and I'd told him I thought he should come home but now I worried he wouldn't make it in time. I couldn't reach him but left 3 messages. I threw pillows and a flashlight into the closet and grabbed the kids and their blankets, rousing Tyler from his nap. I set the battery-powered radio I'd been listening to on the floor just outside the door of the closet so I could still hear. I tried putting it inside but when I closed the door all I could hear was static and I wanted to know exactly when it was coming. Connor manned the flashlight and clung to my knees. Tyler kept saying, "Hide" and sat quietly and unusually still enveloped in my arms and we all huddled in the middle of the closet. I listened to the radio and the play by play of the tornado as it closer and closer. I had spoken with my own mother earlier that morning but Carl's parents still didn't know. Alone with my 2 kids fearing a tornado worse than what we'd seen earlier that day sent cold chills and panic through my body. Reaching out any way I could, I texted my mother-in-law, "Pray, we've got tornados!" We prayed again too and waited. I was still sitting in the closet when Carl pulled in 10 minutes after the tornado had passed us. We'd escaped a second blow for which I was unexplicably grateful. Those thoughts and feelings paled however as we listened to the carnage and war path this second tornado was leaving.

After 7 days without power, lots of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and a couple cold showers, we pick up the pieces and start putting things back together. The latest tally is that over 655 homes and 87 businesses in Cullman have been destroyed or significantly damaged by the confirmed F-4 tornadoes (it had split into 3). There are miles of destruction and debris throughout Cullman County and the surrounding towns. Miraculously, only 4 have lost their lives in Cullman and it is tragic and we pray for their families. Throughout the state of Alabama there are hundreds, maybe thousands, who are wondering what comes next because they no longer have a place to call home. Many more than our 4 here have also lost their lives. The physical and emotional toll is without price but they are strong here and they WILL rebuild. We feel honored to be here to help.

On a lighter note, this is NOT the kind of excitement I was looking for when I said I was ready for the adventure of living in the South.