restoration

I have a deep love for my neighborhood. It's got little 60's ranch houses.  It's got massive oak trees.  It's got people who wave when they drive by and tell you that your dogs are beautiful (they really are, no bias).  Sure, it's not the trendiest place to live, but it's my home in every sense of the word. 

Last week my beloved neighborhood took a beating from a rather nasty tornado.  I'll spare you the details of the damage.  By now you have seen it in the news.  My cozy little house is just one block south of the storm path.  Yes, too close.  Yes, I am very fortunate. 

The past seven days have been a mixed bag of emotion.  My first reaction the night of the storm was defeat - and that was before I saw the true devastation down the road.  The next morning as I rounded the bend of my shady little street I stopped in utter disbelief.  The homes and lovely ancient trees I passed daily on my walks were in ruin.  As I continued through debris and the sound of chainsaws, harsh reality began to sink its claws into my heart.  And then came grief.  The loss.  Loss of homes, loss of possessions, loss of that sense of security that "these things really only happen to other people".  I cried.  Right there in the street.  I mourned the loss of what used to be. 

But as I let the sadness wash over me, the next wave was hope.  From all the loss, there was one enormous victory.  One thing that had been saved, far more precious.  Life.  There had been no loss of life.  And surrounding me I saw life at its most beautiful.  People drawing together, leaning on one another, helping each other to begin the long process of clearing and cleaning and rebuilding.

The timing of this storm was fated, I believe.  It ravaged my neighborhood, and many others, on the evening of Good Friday.  The day they nailed our savior to a cross and death and destruction had its momentary victory.  But in the following days came hope as the light of the world was resurrected, bringing with him a new life and a new beginning for God's people.  As the sun rose on this Easter morning, I remembered how he has brought us out of the depths and freed us for eternity.  He has given us a future of hope.  And now in the days following the storm, as I walk down my once shady lane, dodging brush piles, with the sound of axes and hammers ringing through the air, I still remember.  We will be restored.



If you would like to help with the tornado relief effort in the St. Louis area, or aid our brothers and sisters in the South who have recently experienced tragedy that far exceeds our own, please consider giving your time or money to the American Red Cross.  You can find more information at www.redcross.org.

perplexities

Lately I've been prepping my students for the big state standardized test (more thoughts on that monstrosity later), which means daily I am spewing out things like "What is 3/5 + 7/10?" and "What tool do you use to measure force?" (the answers to which are 1 3/10 and a spring scale, respectively, in case you were curious).  All of this rapid-fire review has given rise to some questions of my own that have been plaguing me for some time and to which I have not yet found satisfactory answers.  Perhaps you can help...

Why are doors to doctor's offices always so heavy?  Aren't people generally there because they feel unwell?  And when you are ill isn't pushing heavy objects pretty much the last thing you want to do?

Why is it acceptable for my dog to lick me and I think it's adorable "kisses", but if another human were to lick me I would be a little freaked out?  And perhaps not want to be around that person quite so much...?

Why does every green thing on the planet grow in my backyard, but very little grass?  And can you really call clover/violets/dandelions/weird green leafy mystery bushes a lawn?

Why do birds try to run from things?  Don't they remember they have wings...and that whatever is chasing them can't fly?

Why does the local carwash have a "best wash" but also offer a step up called an "extreme wash"?  Isn't the whole meaning of the word "best" that there isn't anything better?

Why do men love ugly chairs so much, even when compared to equally comfortable stylish options?  Why do they always gravitate toward nail-studded leather or marshmallow-puffed recliners?

Why do we have eyebrows?  And if they serve no function why didn't we decide years ago to just start shaving them off completely?

Let me know if you have any reasonable explanations to the above perplexities, and if perhaps you have some of your own.  I may be able to help, but only if it's a topic on the fifth grade test.