Updated: Jun 1, 2020
The body count when I woke this morning was 7.
Now it’s 25 and they’re still searching.
I live in the suburbs of Nashville. Last night tornadoes blew through and the pain and suffering left behind is insurmountable.
Thousands without power.
Hundreds without a home.
Twenty-five without life.
Last night when the tornadoes—just 20 miles away—were taking away life, I sat in my baby’s room and held life. I rocked, cuddled, and hushed to get her back down, hoping the loud rain and wind wouldn’t wake her again.
As I laid her back down I knew I would see her again when the sun rose.
I wonder how many of those 25 were mamas, who just earlier that night, had rocked and cuddled, hushed and soothed?
I wonder how many went to sleep thinking they would see the faces of those they love when the sun rose?
I wonder how many went to sleep angry with their spouse?
How many went to sleep in the arms of those they love?
How many had time to say one more prayer before they landed in the loving embrace of our savior?
I wonder how many fell asleep to wake to an eternity in separation from our Father?
I wonder how many more will be found?
I wonder if my tired mind and body will hold my baby a little longer and cuddle her a little tighter if she wakes again tonight…not knowing if any day will be the last, I wonder if I will continue each day to love more than I did the day before.