Memory and Compassion

All photos taken by my dad, who works as a Public Information Officer for the SBA.

He's currently on location in Joplin, MO, which was recently devastated by the worst tornado since 1950.

When was the last time you felt like your life was turned upside down?

I'm sitting at home on this quiet Memorial Day weekend, enjoying the sounds of rain out the window and birds chattering with each other in the trees. I can smell strawberry rhubarb crisp in the oven. It's almost ready to eat.

I'll serve it with vanilla ice cream, a big scoop for me. I imagine the rich taste, and how I'll love it most because I bought the rhubarb stalks fresh this morning at Evanston's farmers market. Crisp, red, ready.

I wandered the tents slowly, enjoying each of spring's new offerings. I bought what was ready to eat, instead of shopping with a list in hand. I lingered, watching families interact and the community come together over food.

There is nothing better than that feeling of togetherness.

This afternoon, I read emails from my dad about what he's seen in Missouri and Kansas, where the tornadoes hit. I looked through the photographs he attached, shaking my head at the computer screen and wondering about luck, erosion, and loss.

I wondered about how grateful I can be for the quiet. For the unremembered days.

There are families in towns who have recently lost everything -- loved ones, shelter, dreams, their plans for the future. Their worlds have been turned upside down.

Perhaps, before the storm hit, their lives were as quiet as my day is today.

I ask you, readers, yogis, compassionate people -- as you celebrate Memorial Day weekend and as you take time to remember those who have given their lives for our country, pray for these families. Send hope their way. They are grieving and have witnessed great destruction... while many of us grill hamburgers in our quiet backyards.

As we make new memories, we also mourn the loss they have suffered.

From one of my dad's emails...

I'm in Reading, Kansas. It's a teeny little town, very poor, streets are just dirt. Only about 230 people live there. I drove over yesterday from Joplin, Missouri.

This week was hard. I worked several 18-hour days with lots of driving, 4 am start times, etc., so much happening it's hard to keep track of things. But I am NOT complaining - I count my blessings every time I see what I've seen this week. (You should, too.) Two of my fellow colleagues have just missed getting hit by tornadoes along their paths this last week.

No big deal for either, but it kind of makes you stop and think.

Who knows where I might be sent next?

As you celebrate this weekend, fly the flag. Eat a hotdog. I've attached a bunch of photos -- some are amazing. All the damage views are horrible...I love you...

Thank you, Dad, for the compassion you bring to the places you witness. You are able to help turn the world right-side up, little by little, in these cities which have been struck by disaster.

To any of the individuals and families who might be reading this, my heart goes out to you. I will be praying for you -- for strength, hope, perseverance.

And if I could, I'd have you over for a bite of strawberry-rhubarb crisp this evening. Fresh, piping hot from the oven, steam rising off the plate as the scoop of ice cream is added.

We'd sit together in the quiet of home, knowing that we are not alone, tasting what is good.