Ode to a bad cat

I have always had a special thing for cats. I learned at an early age to find companionship amongst animals. And it seems as long as I can remember, I always had a special kitty by my side. Until my husband came along, I thought for sure I was going to be that crazy cat lady up the street everybody talks about. But he has brought moderation. My husband is not a cat person. He tolerates them. Ok, he likes them a little but I would not say he is wild about them.

When we first married, I brought my dowry of four cats. All females. All older. All set in their ways. One of these kitties was Molly.

Molly making herself comfortable

It could be said that Molly was the baddest cat of all the cats that ever lived. I mean there are bad cats and then there is Molly. Our favorite Molly story happened the first week we were married. My husband woke in the middle of the night to a hideous odor. It was smelly cat box odor- something he was not yet familiar with and bad enough to wake him out a dead sleep. So like the smitten newlywed he was, he quietly got out of bed as to not wake his sleeping bride, went to the cat box, emptied it, refilled it, and went back to bed. However, the odor persisted. So up he rose again, this time searching the house from corner to corner trying to find the secret poo-pile. But no luck. So, tired and fed up, he just went back to bed and pulled to covers over his head.

I'm sorry? Did you think we were sleeping alone tonight?

The next morning, I woke up and went to the kitchen to get breakfast ready. And there on the small table next to the door was the pile. It sat perched like a proud little pyramid dropped precisely on top of our electric candle warmer- which was turned to the ON position. Apparently the pile of poo was warming all throughout the night. I knew right away who was responsible. It was Molly. She was the only one who could pull something like that off.

I'm using my CAT-ESP to open that door!

Personally, I was quite amazed at how the cat managed to SHIFT the candle that WAS on the warmer so carefully, how exact her aim was, and how she waited to do this in the middle of the night when no one was looking. However, my husband was not so impressed. Thus was his baptism in living with cats.

I'm gonna find my OWN window!

Molly never pulled this again. I feel it was her way of dealing with the anxiety of the move, this new person in her life, and she was simply making her feelings known. However over the years, she managed to pull a variety of other antics. She was a bit overweight and had difficulty making it into the windows to watch the birds outside. Claw marks in the drywall show her struggles. Once she tried to get up onto a shelf in the bathroom to look out the window and the shelf, unable to hold her weight, fell (along with the cat) smashing into our porcelain sink breaking it into 2 pieces. She had grooming issues. She had projectile hairballs. She had a cat box phobia. And she liked to bite you when you pet her and then scratch you when you stopped. She was a mess. She destroyed things. She was altogether a really bad cat. But I loved her anyway.

Nothing like your own personal heater!

Over the years, she and my husband made peace. When we first married, we lived in the city and she was not able to go outside. I believe most of her behavioral issues were a result of being locked indoors all the time. When we moved to the farm where we now live, my husband made it clear she was not going to destroy this house too! I agreed and for the first time in many years, Molly became an outside cat.

Come on! Let me outside!

And she had a glorious time. She spent her afternoons lounging in the shade, watching for squirrels, catching mice, and exploring twelve acres of freedom. At night I put her in the shop to keep her safe from predators and in the mornings I let her out again. She was a happy cat.

About 5 months ago our friend the vet was out for a visit and I asked her to look at Molly. She had been losing some weight (which I was not too concerned about as she was getting much more exercise now) and it was then we discovered she had a mass in her abdomen. We discussed the options- bringing her in for a scan to determine how large the tumor was, to put her on medications, etc. But  ultimately, I decided against it.

Lounging in the afternoon shade.

I wanted to let Molly live out her final days as she was- outside, prowling the fence lines for field mice, sleeping the days away where ever she pleased. I did begin bringing her in the house at night where she slept in the windows of course.

On Friday, Molly ate her breakfast with the other cats and went outside. I saw her later that morning patrolling the fence as usual. By late that afternoon, Molly was gone. She did not suffer. And she spent the last nine months of her life- one happy cat.

Molly- Companion for over 15 years!

Growing! Growing! Growing!

A summer shower came through this afternoon and as quickly as it crossed over the mountains, it disappeared again. When the sun came out, my daughter and I went out on a scavenger hunt.

Today's theme: Things we can eat! Have a look at what we found!

Tomatoes!

Summer apples!

Blueberries!

Figs!

Mulberries! (at back) foreground= NOT edible!

Fall apples!

Patio Herbs!

Message of Hope

Some songs are for entertainment. Some record the past. Some songs praise. Some deliver messages of hope. These lyrics by Julie Miller do just that.

You've been taken by the wind,

You have known the kiss of sorrow,

Doors that would not let you in,

Outcast and the stranger.

You have come by way of sorrow, you have come by way of tears,

But you'll reach your destiny meant to find you all these years,

Meant to find you all these years.

You have drunk a bitter wine with none to be your comfort,

You who once were left behind will be welcome at love's table.

You have come by way of sorrow, You have take a long way home,

But the love that waits on, you will someday come to know,

You will one day come to know.

All the nights that joy has slept will awake to days of laughter,

Gone the tears that you have wept,

You'll dance in freedom ever after.

You have come by way of sorrow, you've come over a stony ground,

But when love calls out your name, you will lay you burden down,

You will lay you burden down.

You have come by way of sorrow, you have come by way of tears,

But you'll reach the destiny meant to find you all these years,

Meant to find you all these years.

Holy Moley!

So Spring has sprung here in the American South and with it all kinds of wildlife! My outside cats are taking it upon themselves to thin the numbers. Thus far, they have eliminated two squirrels (sigh), lots of mice (not so sad), and a handful of lizards (most of whom I have saved). The neighbor dog (who I will write about later) seems to have a major rodent fetish and I am no longer surprised when she comes round with small critters hanging out of her mouth. Even though they have expired, it seems to be great fun for her to throw them in the air and catch them again. And when she is done, she rolls in them. Gross.

I make it my personal mission to try to free whatever critter the great hunters have caught and it is not uncommon to see me charging through the yard yelling like a deranged nut. They usually drop whatever they have and move away. They know the routine. This is our game.

So yesterday, I saw my older cat strutting through the yard with a small rodent in her fanged grasp. And as usual, I said in my oh so sweet voice, "Here kitty, kitty...." (she falls for it every time) and when I grabbed her, she dropped it.

Baby mole about the size we found.
(Photo source unknown)

It was a baby mole. It was still alive. But probably not for long. It had puncture wounds. So I did what I always do- take the critter and put in a safe place until it... well, you know. Expires.

I had a small plastic bowl handy, so I put him there high on a cool dark shelf in our outbuilding so the cats would not get at him again. I intended to go back and remove the body later. And I went on with my business.

About 2 hours later, I went out and to my surprise, the little guy was still alive! He had bled quite a bit but was not in shock and was moving around a little. So, I put some dried leaves and other soft material in the bowl and covered him with a light cloth until I could release him later that evening when my yard patrol was not so "intense."

And of course, my four year old was helping me with all of this. I explained to her how we could not touch the baby mole because he was a wild animal. She was concerned about his wounds, so we went in the house, got a Q-tip and some Triple Antibiotic ointment and slathered him up a bit. Poor mole.

In the meantime, we came in the house and did a little mole research. We learned where they live, what they eat, and how they survive in the wild. We decided baby mole was about 2 months old (by his size)- so old enough to make it on his own.

Then we went on a scavenger hunt to try and find the mole's hole. We found it quickly! It was under a rock and when I lifted it, we saw his burrow. We decided to put the baby mole back in his hole right away. So I lifted the rock again and we slid the mole out of the bowl into the hole and I gently placed the rock back over the burrow.

But the mole didn't stay in the hole! No sooner than I replaced the rock, he reappeared out of the hole! So, we used a stick and gently directed him back into his hole. And,  a few seconds later, he reappeared out of the hole again! Darn mole!

MOLE HOLES!

So maybe this was NOT his hole. Indeed, as we looked around the yard, there must have been a dozen or so mole holes built around our large oak tree. Great! There's no telling which hole that darn mole came out of.

So back in the bowl the mole went and there he stayed until evening. At dusk, we made a little burrow in the old mulch hay under our fig bush and finally set him free. We haven't checked on him this morning but my four year old made up a song for him and tells everyone the story about how we took care of a baby mole for a day.

We'll have to buy this children's book.

The Llamas are coming! The Llamas are coming!

So it's official! We are officially approved as a SELR adoptive home!

Yes folks! Within the next month or so we will be bringing on 2 new four legged family members to our farm! It is a bit of a fulfillment of a dream to live with llamas and now it is really going to happen (double fingers crossed not to jinx it)!

Why llamas you ask? (Or as my husband asks- Why llamas? in a dejected monotone voice). I don't know. Because they are cool.

They are larger than goats and sheep so I don't have to stay up all night worrying (as much) about predatory attacks. And they are not as large as horses who usually don't know their own power.

Llamas are brilliant, quiet, stoic creatures who form life long bonds.

And NO, they do not spit (unless provoked or are harassed like this ridiculous kid and her obviously intellectually challenged father who in my opinion both need to be taken out and horsed whipped). Sorry, stupid people annoy me.

Besides who can resist big eyes like this?

Or a face like this?

I actually began thinking about Llamas about 5 few years ago and bought this book. Very informative and a great intro to llamas.

And now that we have the facilities, I began doing a little research online about availability. And that's how I found SELR.

I have been fooling around with horses long enough to know- I do not know anything about animals. So to go out and purchase a set of llamas (like they are pair side tables.... right?) seemed a little dumb. And that is why SELR appealed to me. SELR is a nonprofit made up of a group of enthusiasts, veterinarians, and professionals who have been working with camelids for years. The majority of the animals they acquire are surrendered by owners who are no longer able/willing to care for them. Only a few are abuse and neglect cases and the majority of those guys are kept in house through an EXTENSIVE network of individual volunteer farms.

Sounds pretty cool. So I started chatting with my husband about it and believe it or not, it was his idea to submit an application for adoption. Wow! (Although I understand this does not mean he is in any way excited about the prospect.) But I am :-)

The SELR rep who visited our farm is Deborah Logan. She is extremely knowledgeable about llamas and seems very attuned to our needs (we are first time llama parents, already have 2 rescue horses, and have a small child). She asked us a few questions about what we are looking for in a llama (age, sex, fiber quality, etc.) and I told her she knew more than me. Just bring us two llamas :-)

And so she will. As we speak, she is now searching her network. Finding us the perfect guys (or gals) to add to our four legged family!

SELR's network extends from Maryland to Florida and as far west as Texas. If your state does not fall in SELR's territory and you are interested in adopting, please contact SELR and they can direct you to sister organizations.

(All photos courtesy SELR facebook page)

The road to home (farm) ownership-part 2

We are not wealthy people by any means. So how in the world did we afford to buy an existing farm in this economy? While I cannot offer a straight "this is how we did it" answer, I will share some of the lifestyle tips which we live by and I believe allowed us to now be where we are.

First of all, we set our priorities. What do we really need vs. what do we want? Yeah for a while there, (before baby) we had a great time buying frivolous things. I admittedly have a fabric buying compulsion. I can't help it. I just love fabric. My husband likes high end man stuff and tech stuff. But one job loss coupled with a newborn baby pretty much quit us of those habits.

We set realistic goals. What was our time frame for moving from the city to the country? How much money did we need/could we save during that period of time? My husband's job loss followed by a few years of poor paying positions put our dream behind. But not really. If we had been rigid in our timeframe, we might have lost the farm and everything else we had when we found ourselves faced with no income for an undetermined period of time. What is that old saying, "Life happens when you are busy making plans?"

Finally, we are capitalism's worst nightmare. We try to be self sufficient. We do not mind expending a little bit of energy to do it ourselves. We make our own laundry soap, make our own yogurt, supplement our winter heat with wood, and use the barter and trade system whenever possible. We try to save more than we spend. We never buy new cars (or really anything else new for that matter). We're happy with last year's model (or the year before that... or the year before that). I buy most all our clothes at second hand shops and I am a regular at consignment sales. We still wear name brands and maintain our high end/high quality taste but at less than quarter the cost! We also try to make smart purchases. I won't say we never impulse buy, but rarely is it for large $$$ items. We are happy to leave a store, think about it for a day or two, and come back again later. If the item is still there when we come back then it was meant to be. If it is gone, then we simply shrug it off and move on.

My super awesome $50.00 antique couch!

I think too we are blessed with a great deal of luck. We listen to the little voice in our head. When it tells us to wait, we wait. When it tells us to go now- we GO NOW! We know when to ask for help. And when we get "no's" (and we have gotten many of them), we do not let it be the end of the road for us. We simply change our course and carry on, our heads up and our feet planted firmly on the ground.

Over the years, we have never lost sight of our goals and dreams. When faced with roadblocks, rather than sit and stare at them hoping they would go away, we find ways around them. We reset priorities. We set new short term goals in order to meet long term ones. We get creative. We were patient and we ultimately persevered.

Original farm relocation goal: 2 years
Realized farm relocation: 6 years

The road to home (or should I say- FARM) ownership

So it's been a while since I updated. We've been busy. I mean REALLY busy. Let's catch up.

Last time I posted, we were soul searching over a beautiful old Victorian (built in the 1880s) in the little town where my husband now works. We decided not to pursue it. It was a short sale and as first time home buyers, we just did not want to get ourselves into something like that.

So we decided to build. From May until October, we threw ourselves into the building process. We chose our house plan, worked out the details with the architectural firm (Allison Ramsey of South Carolina- awesome people. LOVE THEM!), began talking with local banks about construction loans, and started searching for builders.

And that's where it got crazy. The new construction loan process was pretty smooth- believe it or not. However, getting a commitment from a builder was not so easy. In fact it ended up being the downfall of our project. Five builders did not even call us back. One met with us and said he would be back in contact with pricing-  we never heard from him again (and he was the president of the local home builders association to boot!). One refused to commit to pricing all together and the final builder backed out last minute.

For a while we took it personally. Maybe we were too direct? Maybe we were too practical? Maybe we  just had no idea what we were doing? I checked with a couple of other builder associations to ask if we were going about the process correctly and they said yes. They also said they have received multiple complaints about builders refusing to return calls, refusing to commit to price quotes, not finishing jobs, etc. Seems like during the recent economic downfall of the housing bust, many builders are out of business and the ones who stuck it out are a bit frayed at the edges.

So the week our last builder backed out, we decided to explore our options. We called up our local real estate agency (the same one who showed us the beautiful Victorian in town) and gave him some details about what we were looking for and a price range. Back to house hunting we went.

That afternoon, he had four prospective properties for us to view. He showed us a pretty green ranch style house nestled between two mountains. It had a little over 11 acres- with page wire fencing, a working chicken coup with yard, a functioning goat shed, an additional small animal barn, a pond, an in ground swimming pool, and a separate 1300 square foot block building with a canning room! My husband and I talked about it for a day or so. It had everything we were dreaming of. It was a working farm! So we decided to make an offer.

When the offer was accepted I was overjoyed, terrified, anxious, ecstatic, and heartbroken all at the same time. We had spent years dreaming of a house on our 30 acre farm. We had our house plan. I had the cabinets picked out. I had paint chips and samples of wood flooring.

But that is how life goes. If you hold onto something so tight it blocks the light of possibility around you, you might just miss out. So I put my book of dreams on the shelf and there is shall stay until someday- or not. Life is about being flexible and pursing your dreams in whatever form they may come.

To be continued......

Happy Spring!

Hello all and Happy Spring!
The world is green again and the air is getting warmer! Despite my last post, we really did have a pleasant winter here. Actually, it wasn't much of a winter at all. It was unseasonably warm and Spring came very early! In mid February we had snow and by the end of the month it was in the low 70's! It has been warm ever since!

This year is going to be a big year! In February, I worked on a huge commission for an upcoming network television series. I can't release too many details until the pilot airs. But it was my biggest commission to date. (As many of you know, I create historic costumes for the film, television, and museum industries.) More on that later!

In addition, we are in serious get ready to move mode. This is something we have been thinking about for a few years and as "just the two of us" has now become "three of us", we are finding the need for a little more room.

Right now the housing market is a buyer's dream but a seller's nightmare. Houses are priced 30-50% below their 2008 values. Definitely a great time to buy! Not a great a time to sell. However, when a house like this one comes on the market at a price we can afford, one gets a little more incentive to start packing those dishes!

This c1900 house (fully remodeled in 1988) is located in a small historic community outside of our current city of residence. It is just 5 miles from my husband's place of employment (whereas he is now commuting over 35 miles one way.) It is on a corner lot and has just enough side yard for our little one to play and the dogs to stretch their legs. But it would be city living as there are residences all around it.

It is by no means Eutopiaville, but the streets are quite and the crime rate relatively low. In our current city, there is a growing gang problem that is reeking havoc on our revitalized downtown residential districts.

This house is within walking distance to both the children's park and the local elementary school. (And, the schools in this community DO NOT have school resource officers! Can you remember a time when there was no need for police presence in our schools?) In addition, I could walk to the post office and ride my bike to the grocery!

However, it is city living. Our dreams have always been to build a house on our rural 30 acre farm (just 5 miles from this house.) But unlike the depressed housing market, the building market is still very high. Sky rocketing gas prices are driving up materials prices and right now it would cost twice the price to build a house on our property.

Lots to think about, pray about, and just plain wait and see about. But, I know in the end it will all work out the way it is meant to be :-) It always does!

To everything there is a season

There is no smoke coming from the chimney of the little green house across the street this morning.

Last night I knew as the police cars pulled up at sunset that something was direly wrong. And I was right. Our dear old neighbor had passed away.

Tommy was a small man- standing only 5'5". He always wore bib overalls and a plaid shirt. I remember the first time I encountered him. It was at my husband's father's funeral. He stood quietly outside the visiting room- in his best denim overalls and a clean white shirt, clutching a baseball cap in his hands. He refused to come in. He did not speak to anyone. He paid his respects and slipped out before anyone noticed.

Over the past six and a half years we have lived across the street from Tommy- on the top of a hill in my husband's old family home overlooking Tommy's house. Every once and a while I would stop by and say hello if he was outside, but mostly I kept my respectful distance and watched out for him from afar. He lived by himself, had never married, and as of late kept goats in the little mule shed in his backyard.

Tommy was born in the 1920s in the little hollar down the street- before there were streets here. Before this was a neighborhood. A time when this area was still a rural outcropping of the greater city.

But times have changed. This neighborhood has changed. There are houses everywhere. This area is becoming a mecca for urbanites. Houses are being remodeled and updated. New families are moving into the area. New families with new ideas and modern dwellings.

In the midst of this was Tommy. A man who still heated his home by a wood stove. A man who had been educated up to the seventh grade. A man who was never afraid of hard work and always helped his neighbors. And a man who spent his summer afternoons sitting in a folding chair in his front yard waving to neighbors as they drove by. A man of true Southern Appalachia.

I watched quietly from the window as the family stood outside and they brought his body out of the house. I felt foolish and guilty for spying like I did. But I watched. And cried.

I cried a deep sense of loss. I cried not only for the family's loss but for the loss of an era. For Tommy, time had stood still. He was the past. He was what we all once were and what we all seem so desperately trying to leave behind. And today, as I look out over the quiet little green house across the street, I wonder- Will anyone even remember that time?

The Best Town in America?

I have a secret to share.

I am not Southern. Not by a Southerner's definition anyway.

I spent less than ten years "up North" before our family relocated to the American South.  Since then I have lived nearly double my life in this quiet, cozy, medium-sized Southern town.

Recently, our little city was featured in a fantastic national outdoor magazine- named as The Best Town in America. 

Really? Our little town?

At least that was the question on the mind of the Portland, Oregon magazine writer sent here to do the story. Our little city received the most votes in an online contest naming it the Best Town Ever and America's Ultimate Dream Town. 

The article opened with the quote: "Chiggers, poison ivy, rednecks, humid summers, cold winters. If you don't like those things, you shouldn't come here."

Hardly a way to beckon people to our city.

But perhaps that was the point. A comment by another transplant (this one from one state South), it pretty much summed up the atmosphere of our city. Meant to be tongue- and cheek, many local readers took offense at this statement. However, they seemed to miss the point.

"'I don't like Outside coming in here and naming this the best town ever,' he says, like a kid upset that his secret hideout had been revealed."

And that is how most residents view our little town. In the past, cities featured in national magazines as hubs for enthusiasts have been swamped with transplants. A prime example is a city about 100 miles from here known as the "NYC of the South." It has been flooded with an influx of new residents- increasing its metro population by 25% in an eight year span. As a result, this city has seen serious consequences from its exponential growth- major pollution, increased crime rates, massive habitat destruction, loss of community, and more recently the inability to maintain a fresh water supply to its residents.


Comparatively, our little town grew only 9% in those same years. In fact, slow urban sprawl seems to be a major selling point for our city. On their website, the Education, Arts, and Culture department describes our city as "culturally diverse and well known for being a service-oriented city.... has the best of everything and has avoided the sprawl of other major cities. Of course, it's the people that can make the real difference... [Our city] has a strong sense of community and the [film] production-friendly appeal that larger city's cannot duplicate."


However, as a place for opportunity, our city does fall short comparatively. There are few opportunities for employment outside the service or business oriented industries. For years, our city suffered from what is called the "brain drain" (people going off to college and not coming back because there is more opportunity elsewhere). The city is trying to combat this by building up a viable "artist district" and encouraging entreprenuership by offering educated artistic types grant money to relocate here and set up shop. Thus far, it seems to be working, however there are serious complaints by locals that they are being overlooked for these opportunities because they are in fact "locals." And to this day, our city is still just a Bachelor's town. There is little opportunity for anyone who has more than a four year college degree.


But I have to say, in the twenty some odd years since I moved here, our city has come a very long way. The city is more diverse than it once was. When my family first arrived, there was one ethnic restaurant in town. Now there are over fifty. When I first moved here, there was one other student in my elementary class who was "not from here." Now, each day, I encounter other transplants. And finally- after twenty some odd years, people have stopped asking me where I am from.


Yes, there are lots of opportunities elsewhere, but I like many other residents have chosen stay in this city simply because we like it here. That was the point of the article. That was what the interviewee was trying to convey. With the good of this city comes the bad. "It's all part of it."


And I guess it is good enough to be named the "Best Town in America."


To read this article for yourself, check out Outside Magazine's Sept 2011 feature article.
For more on this topic:
http://www.timesfreepress.com/news/2011/sep/13/a1-magazine-praises-slams-scenic-city/
http://www.timesfreepress.com/news/2011/sep/12/chattanooga-praised-slammed-outdoor-magazine/
http://www.odysseylandco.com/articles/399-outside-magazine-selects-chattanooga.html
http://www.chattanoogan.com/articles/article_203701.asp
http://www.chattanooga.gov/EAC/2919_FilminginChattanooga.htm

Not forgotten

Whether it be 10 years or 100 years, know that You are not forgotten. Help us to cherish each day those little things in life- a hug from a loved one, the smile on your little girl's face, the laughter of a close friend. And, let us never forget what a privilege it is to truly be Free.

Images from NYC- 2005

Susan Jarrett

Terror from the sky and glimmers of hope

Just over one week ago, a series of over 200 deadly tornados ripped across 300 miles of the American South. My sister is a nurse and was working on the fourth floor of the hospital in Tuscaloosa when the mile wide twister hit. She said she saw it coming out the window as she and the staff frantically worked together to secure their patients. Just moments before the storm hit, my sister made a desperate phone call to my mother saying, "There is a massive tornado headed straight for the hospital. We are looking at a direct hit. Make sure everyone knows I love them....." And the line went dead.

About ten o'clock that evening our cell phones began ringing. The signal was fading in and out and it was hard to hear. Finally, we made out the broken voices on the other end. It was our friends in Ringgold, GA saying they were OK and asked if we were OK too.

Our house had been without power since early that morning. The first tornado to hit our area damaged our end of the city, breaking power poles and shredding lines. So throughout the day and into the night, we were oblivious to what was happening around us.

It was not until the next morning when anyone fully understood the capacity of what had happened. We turned on our battery powered radio and listened to reports of the terror the storms had reaped.

Arial photo of Chattanooga tornado damage
Photo by TEMA

Aftermath of tornado in Ringgold, GA

Photo by Ashley Moore

Aftermath of Tuscaloosa tornado

Photo by Jason Clark

In just over 12 hours,  over 300 people were dead. In Tuscaloosa, Alabama there are still around 400 people missing. In our area, more than 30 people were killed.

One of those 30 people killed in our area was a 12 year old boy from the small rural town of Bridgeport, Alabama. Moved by the massive devastation across our region, a group of high school students from a neighboring community (the community where my husband teaches) made the decision to cancel their class trip and instead donate all the trip money to this young tornado victim's family to help pay for his funeral costs.

You must understand the communities in this part of Tennessee and Alabama are not considered wealthy by any means. And, many of these high school students have never traveled beyond the jurisdiction of their own community. Their destination was Tybee Island, GA and the amount they earned from various year- long school fundraisers was $2,000.00- all of which they unselfishly donated to the 12 year old tornado victim's family.

As soon as word got out about the gift, hoards of monetary donations flooded the school. As of yesterday, nearly $5,000.00 had been given by anonymous donors to help replace the funds these students gave up. In fact, even the city of Savannah, GA found out about the student's generous gift and offered the group an all expense paid trip. Now, in turn, the school is donating the extra $5,000.00 to the American Red Cross as assistance to all the tornado victims across the American South.

Tornado aftermath in Bridgeport, AL
Photo by Stephen Hargis

This story is just one example of the rainbows that can emerge from the darkest of skies. While this one act cannot bring back all the lives that were lost, it does give us remaining feelings of hope. Sometimes, it is those who have the least to give that can offer the most.

After 31 hours without electricity or phone service, I finally heard my sister's voice on the other end of the telephone line. She was exhausted, shaken, but safe. Just as the F5 twister was about to hit the hospital, it turned and ripped through the parking lot instead, leveling a strip mall next door and taking the lives of everyone inside.