"Storms never last do they, baby," sang Jessi Colter. This past week my home state was assailed by tornadoes. Nearly cutting a straight line across Middle Tennessee. Hardest hit was Putnam County, just a little ways down the road from our farm. Millions of dollars of property damage to homes and businesses were left in the aftermath. Twenty-four lives were taken, most of them in Putnam County and several of them very young lives.
I am reminded of an early Mother's Day morning when straight-line winds took out Grandpa's 100-year old feed barn. The storm woke Rita. As she looked out her window she knew something was wrong. She could see Mother and Dad's house clearly. Usually, the old barn would have blocked her sight. We all walked in the rain to see that lovely old girl flat on the ground. As we stood their crying a bit. Wait, it was just a barn. Mother began to tell about so many mornings she would watch her Daddy walk the worn path from the back porch of their house to that barn before daylight to milk the cows. We all began to share stories -- memories of an old barn.
The devastation that resulted from the March 4, 2020 tornadoes was so much more. Yet, as I watched the news on television and social media, what you heard above all the statistics were the stories, the memories and the thanksgiving that so many offered. One CBS news reporter remarked that everyone he spoke to in reporting his story mentioned God and invoked such words as "blessed" and "miracle". Certainly thousands of volunteers have come to help with clean up. Many charitable organizations have arrived with supplies to carry those who lost their homes through another week. Some offered free places to stay. Tennessee is truly the "Volunteer State".
One young family - Josh, Erin & Sawyer Kimberlin -- died together in the storm. A story was posted about young Sawyer (3 years old) who loved to lead singing with his church family. The poster requested churches on Sunday sing and record Sawyer's favorite song and then post it on the Facebook requestor's page. The song Holy, Holy, Holy was sung by hundreds of churches of various religious fervor across the country. All sizes of congregations from 8 people to a thousand sang "Sawyer's Song". It was indeed a blessing to all who watched and sang along as a world of believers praised their God in more than one language but still in the same language -- that of love.
I believe in the end it is the stories and the songs that will bring healing to those bearing the pain of life's storms. Whether it be the death of a loved one, the loss of a house or business, the ending of a friendship or whatever the storm may be, the stories not only preserve history, they honor the individual and their God. The songs proclaim their trust in a loving Father and a promised resurrection.
Holy, holy, holy Though the darkness hide Thee Though the eye of sinful man thy glory may not see
Only Thou art holy; there is none beside Thee Perfect in power, in love, and purity