"T" is for Tornado clean-up...

A to Z Challenge:

ABC's of My Life...

The tornadoes that devastated parts of North Carolina have touched home; a family that attends my school, Holly Grove Elementary School has lost their residence to the grip of destruction of the storm.

I know KA, a fifth grader who is quick with a smile as she stops by my room frequently to bid good morning or to offer a swift, ‘Have a good evening! ‘ as she passes through. Her fourth grade sister KE is quieter with watchful eyes and a joyous spirit.

As my son and I were driving to the house for an organized clean up he said it best when he announced, ‘It’s Good Friday and we are doing something good!’ Indeed we are, Nicholas, yes we are- as I knew he struggled within his twelve year old mind to make sense of the annihilation of a family’s sense of security and safety within this vast world; a planet that doesn’t at all times offer its finest and on occasion appears vastly unfair.

Upon arrival, cleaning was already in motion as chainsaws reverberated in the air, and community members from our school as well as their church and many more whom I didn’t know their affiliation, although it didn’t matter. I gazed for my place to commence as we fell in line hauling; we carried and carted downed limbs to the roadside; strength and determination my ally by thoughts of selfishness such as thank God this wasn’t my house!

KA wanted me to view the small closet her family hovered to ride out the tornado as a different task was to remove salvageable items to a POD for storage as the family stays with a teacher, her husband and two sons who have opened their home for these displaced individuals. Carolyn is gracious, loving and reacted to a calling.

An occasional conversation with a friend, neighbor or co-worker that shared information or a story; one being that the horses from the field next door sensed the storm and went to the back of the pasture and lay down with their back to the fierce winds; God truly embedded a protection instinct within. There are three horses that are still missing. We spoke of close calls (from a previous post) and shared experiences of that memorable day last Saturday when the storms prevailed --embedded in our minds and hearts. We made and deepened connections as we spoke of God’s love and work in motion on that Good Friday.

Three hours later our work terminated as the rains poured. Driving home, once again my son spoke prolific thoughts; those drops were tears of God but joyous that we appeared together as a community to lend a hand in time of need.

“I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work the more I live.”

by George Bernard Shaw

That was too close!

What's the saying, 'Ignorance is Bliss'?

Friends were over for a cook-out although the impending storms were in the forecast.  The TV was off, no radio; just the sounds of words and laughter permeated the air.

Until, the thunder and winds dominated our conversation. We marveled at the strength of the winds and rain with bits of remarks; 'I've never seen wind that strong!' or 'Notice the rain in falling in a circular pattern?' The lights flickered, then were gone. The sound of what we thought was thunder overtook our thoughts and wonderings.

The remainder of the event was conducted in the dark with luminating candles strategically placed; over the desserts, of course. It wasn't until good-byes were bid that an unusual amount of activity was noted in our otherwise quiet community.

We mounted our bikes and took off on an excursion that left us in awe...our neighborhood had been damaged by what could only be described as a tornado or wind sheers immensely strong to down utility poles and massive trees, rip holes in roofs and blow out windows.  Although the damage was sporadic and didn't visit our home, it was incredibly personal.

We live less than a mile from the school in which I teach and the playground equipment was twisted and knotted, a shed no long in sight. Power was off as the lines lay like threads across the road and downed trees act as a tourniquet for the main road to our development as traffic was snaked through our small unimposing streets.  Debris strewn on the ground as petals dropped prior to a wedding.

We shared our thoughts and fears, but mostly repeated, 'That was too close!'...indeed it was. Please pray for our community of Holly Springs as we clean up and help those in need.

...a home two streets over...

Holly Grove Elementary School in the background amidst
the downed power lines...

...downed trees blocking Avent Ferry Road to our neighborhood...

...fallen trees in the other direction on Avent Ferry Road...

...a policeman directing traffic through our neighborhood...the trees in
the background shaved like a dulled lawn mower...

I am truly thankful that loss of life wasn't accompanied by the storm and just as thankful that we were occupied by friends and in this circumstance, Ignorance IS bliss~

Save a Swing for Me~

      Pink, fuchsia and silver ribbons adorn our neighborhood…

...our entrance ways

...our mailboxes



...our stop signs



...our fence posts

...our street signs

...our trees in abundance

They signify the life of Meg Wasley, a third grade student at Holly Grove Elementary; my school. When I spoke of her death on Monday to persons not living in this area they were saddened and distressed, and immediately inquired how well I knew her. Does that make a difference in my sorrow? Should it matter? I floated in and out of her classroom so I was captivated by her swift smile. I passed her in the hallway and her eyes sparkled with recognition. I encountered her at car pool where she bid me a good night.

I’ve not been able to write since Tuesday as a result of lingering thoughts in my head and in my heart of sweet Meg. No matter was more noteworthy than the death of an eight year old child; however words eluded me. The passing away of any child brings scores of questions but a petite number of answers. We want to know the ‘why’s’, the ‘how’s’ and the purpose of such a devastating occurrence; conversely it remains one of life’s countless mysteries.

I strolled through the neighborhood taking photographs to capture the images of pale crimson and gray sparkly ribbons accompanied by goose bumps on my arms and tears on my cheeks as I reminisced. Furthermore, I silently acknowledged copious parents including myself who would be whispering extra words that were more gentle and kind and embracing their children more tightly.

I recognize parents like me would be murmuring prayers of thanks to God that it wasn’t their child while in the same breath appealing for comfort for the family of Meg. I pray for solace and consolation of Meg’s family that they be armed with strength to grapple with the monumental devastation at the loss of a child; their child. May they be enveloped in a blanket of memories to soothe their heartache and ease their pain.

Rest in peace Dear Sweet Meg and save a swing for me~

Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in Heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy. ~Author Unknown