We drove by Joplin and some other tornado torn areas this week on our way to Oklahoma.  Groves of old trees were snapped in half like a huge sickle came by and sliced off the tops, splintering them like toothpicks.  Brick homes look like the roof blew in and imploded.  It’s a topsy turvy sight—things are not where they should be.  We were silent as we drove.  It was all we could offer.  Our breathing and tears were our prayers.

Down to the Foundation

I know You give and take away

Gave a hundred years to these trees

Now jagged and naked, the tops snapped away

Gave thirty years to this family home

The roof blown in, bricks crumbling

It’s hard to keep Your time

To understand Your ways

But I look through the wreckage

And I see the cement foundations

The smooth places in the dust

You remind me that what I build

Is ultimately rubble

Unless I invest in love

Love that rises from the carnage

Of the wind, of the water

These storms that rattle our lives

And send us seeking shelter and help

Maybe they bring us back to love

Stripping away our comfort and security

Reminding us of our vulnerability

Impressing our need for each other

In that, perhaps hope rises again

When we get back

Back down to the Foundation

~ SLW ’11