Oklahoma Strong

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I'm so incredibly proud of my home. So much tragedy in a short period of time. It's being described as the worst tornado in history. The devastation has been compared to the aftermath of an atomic bomb.

Houses, elementary schools, banks, businesses... All flattened. I have one friend who was in the midst of the worst part, seeking shelter in the basement of a bank. She wasn't allowed out until the police arrived, helping to clear the rubble so that everyone could escape. She told me at one point that she could hear the tornado.

The amount of children who will not be home tonight with their families astounds me. We've always had tornado drills in school, teachers making sure we were prepared. Lock downs, sirens, warning signs are so familiar to us from such young ages. Yet, in a single moment, it can all go from drill to reality. Anyone who didn't cry upon hearing that seven bodies of children were discovered in the rubble of Plaza Towers Elementary School, hearing that they drowned in the middle of that tragic tornado, seriously makes me worry. It's devastating, but in the midst of all that madness, a light of hope.

The parents of children who were unaccounted for, standing just a short way from the rubble proved exactly what I've always known to be true. A small dog discovered alive met with cheers from the adults who wait to claim bodies that are most likely no longer filled with life. The example of the human spirit astounds me, stops me in my tracks.

West Virginia University's baseball team is in town to play in the Big 12 Baseball Tournament, and upon hearing of the devastation, immediately springs into action. They're turned away when they try to enter Moore, but that doesn't stop them. The men, coaches and players alike, head to Walmart to purchase much-needed supplies for those affected.

No matter where you look, no matter how devastated it may seem, there's little things to remind you that we're not alone. We may be humans, we may not always be perfect, but in times of need, we step up. I'm not sure exactly how I'll be getting involved, but I can promise you, we're in for some really great examples of love, compassion, and hope.

Stay safe. Most importantly, give your family a hug. Tell them you love them. Don't forget to look for the small signs of life out there, folks. We're going to be just fine.

"The spirit of this city and this nation will not be defeated; our deeply rooted faith sustains us." - OKC Memorial

Update (10:44pm): The death toll has reached 51. 20 of them are children. I'm devastated and emotionally drained.

Life in Tornado Alley

I live in quite possibly the most bipolar state around. Oklahoma's known for it's crazy weather by all of the residents here. Let me break down the next 24 hours for you: Right now, it's creeping up to 80 degrees with the threat of a tornado outbreak hovering over us. Tomorrow? Oh, that high's going to be about 40 degrees, with a chance of wintery mix tonight while we're sleeping. Welcome to my life in Tornado Alley.

There's this feeling in the air during tornado season around here. When the weatherman start getting all jittery with the excitement of being able to cover such events, the entire state joins together in a massive groan of annoyance. We've all been through this before. My hometown is protected by an Indian legend that keeps us safe from tornado activity as within the city limits, so my entire childhood was spent worrying for nothing. Now that I'm older, I don't go running into Mom's closet in hopes of riding the storm out there. Instead, I usually open all the blinds and watch the sky do some pretty majestic things.

If you've never experienced the scientific wonder that is two fronts colliding, you're missing out. Somewhere in the sky, things are happening that even the least excited middle school science student can appreciate. The sky becomes electric, turning this shade of brown that reminds me of caramel. The clouds all turn grey and it's a pretty dark sight to see. You know the feeling you get when you jump off a diving board, before you hit the water, where it feels like your entire body is anticipating the impact? That's how the sky feels, and it's contagious. I find myself sitting, waiting, looking upwards for the first sign of a raindrop.

When it finally hits me, or my windshield, I am five years old again. I'd be lying if I claimed that I didn't dance in the storm every now and then. You don't get a lot of time before things turn nasty, the wind picking up and lightning crashing across the sky, but you get just enough to feel alive. It's easy to forget moments like this exist, tucked away in cities with underground passages to keep us safe from all sorts of weather. I'll never stop loving the way tornado season feels, never stop craving the electric buzz that it gives me.

"Stay weather alert." That's what everyone's saying, but I'm just hoping you stay alert to the magic that's all around us.