The Stormy Heart Tornado

The Labor Day Storm had passed over quickly, and Karen looked around at the serious damages. She never thought that she would be here in a damp and dark basement after a roaring and frightening tornado, but she was now. The persistent rain was always welcomed in the past after any tornado, but this season was different. They had gotten too much rain that summer, and the water table underground had caused many of the oldest trees in the area to tumble down in many of the other summer storms.

She had never felt so powerless before, alone out in the country and where a stately, oak tree had chosen to deposit itself on her tired roof. Now the rainwater, that should have been running off the tin roof, was pouring urgently into the second story bedroom. It was only going to be a matter of time before it would be able to water log the ceiling and drop into her cute country kitchen. The landline telephone was dead when she checked it shortly after the crashing of that gigantic oak tree. It nestled its water-soaked branches all over the brittle phone line wires. In 1967 that was your only lifeline for help.

What in the world could she do? She knew that no one was going to be able to get through to her farmhouse from either end of the road. Her house window view was showing her that both sides of the dirt road leading to her location now had giant trees conveniently resting sleepily across that lonely road. She still looked up and down that wet and muddy road for a car or maybe a truck.

She was powerless and alone, but started to realize she had better make some preparations, because very soon it would be dark. In the pantry as she bent over to search the overcrowded tool drawer, she drew up suddenly after feeling a sharp pain sear through her belly and travel the road to her temples. The realization that she was not really alone had given a painful jolt to her psyche. “So you are awake now, “ she spoke gently as if to calm her own tensions as well as her traveling companion. She rose up slowly and remembered that the matches and candles were right there within easy reach. Thank heavens for that.

The rusty colored fireplace had not been used all summer, so she was very reluctant to venture on that option; but it occurred to her that she probably was not going to have any power until tomorrow or even later. Karen consoled herself with the thought: at least, I have dry firewood in the basket, and some dusty newspapers to get this survival weapon roaring in no time. The fireplace did not disappoint her and warmed the room and her spirits after a few bouts of smoke.

Karen’s mind wondered slowly back to a story that happened not too long ago; when she also had felt as powerless, helpless, and scared as she was beginning to sense was happening. It was a rainy day and seemed to be heading right into Prom Night. Great! How are we going to be able to keep our hairdos and our long dresses from being drenched in the summer downpour?

Well, it didn’t rain until we got to the restaurant, and so we now dreaded leaving to go to the dance at the high school gym. The big deal always is that the Juniors have to decorate that barn height ceiling and make it romantic for the Seniors‘ last dance of their teenage days in the back seat of their life. But the storm got increasingly worse, and then it stopped as suddenly as it had begun. They turned on their local station when they returned to the rented car and heard the surprising outcome of the storm. It had turned into a very rapidly moving and dangerous tornado storm that was jumping through the county. It had hit across town close to her family’s homestead where her two younger sisters were home alone. She became panicked and made her date drive her straight there to find out if they were okay. Returning to the dance didn’t feel quite right, but after checking with her family; it wasn’t a time to let fear be the captain of her heart. Thankfully, the storm had veered in the other direction as tornadoes are apt to do and left only minor damages to the farm. She felt satisfied that her parents would be returning home soon, and she could let the storm fade away into the night.

Returning her thoughts back to the numerous tasks at hand, she wondered what she could possibly fix to eat after the tumultuous events of the afternoon and her brief walk down the garden path of her childhood. Her childhood had not always been easy, because when you are born the oldest of the family, the eldest grandchild and the only female to maintain that honor on the fourth step of the generational ladder; it can put the stress on you. Families tend to follow old patterns and let older generations direct the dance of the traditional way things are done.

It was no different for her family. If you have girls on a farm, then they have to work. They don’t sit in the house, or play in the yard without getting their chores done, or helping when the calves somehow get loose and scamper or romp down the road. Karen didn’t mind the work, it just didn’t prepare her for any other adult life besides being a farmer’s wife; and that didn’t exactly appeal to her wandering spirit. In those days, women weren’t really allowed to have those kinds of feelings; unless they didn’t mind being labelled as a rebel in the tribe.

Karen thought that she was not really ashamed of the idea of following her mother’s role, her grandmothers’ days, or even her great-grandmother’s position. It just didn’t seem to settle into her plans. Her days were dreaming about less work and more play, less snow and more sun, and less boys and more men. She could hardly remember those days sometimes, because they drifted rapidly out of sight when her father died suddenly in a unexpected truck accident late one night. This was not anything new in the country when the two lanes were occupied by drivers speeding down those narrow roads at a higher speed than they needed to. Her father was being the careful one, it was the teenagers that had been drinking and swerved into his path; he never had a chance to head the truckload of hay away from the oncoming disaster. Karen knew then that her dreaming of leaving was not going to happen. Her place now was to stay with her family.

Tornadoes can be the nightmare of your life reflected Karen, but she also knew they can never be let to control your heart. Somehow, you have to wait them out and be prepared as best as you can for the next one. Very similar to waiting for the outcome of that pregnancy, the next grief visitation, the unexpected ways that your life and its blessings can help to take away that needless and overwhelming powerless fear. Karen felt in her heart this was only the beginning of her lessons: in the art of training her heart not to fear any of the storms of the heart.