They are in my prayers. Last year a tornado came through here and killed 14. It came about a 1 1/2 mile of my house and it was a 1/2 mile wide. Like you, that is when learned the true meaning of helplessness. Then the next day, I went to try and help, and that was when I learned the true meaning of hopelessness. I was born and raised here, and if you had dropped me off in a helicopter I couldn't have told you where I was. It looked like Beirut in Lebanon. I would drive to work the long way around just so I didn't have to see it. I didn't want to get in the way and it hurt to much to see. But early one morning, a couple of weeks later, I drove through and saw a house that was already under construction, and that is what I think of, when I feel like giving up on something. I think of that little house, and then I just try to keep on keeping on. I went back a week or so later, there was so much reconstruction going on that I wasn't sure which house had been the first that got started back. That is when I found out the true meaning of pride. Real pride. Pride for my little community, and pride for being part of it. That may sound corny, but that is the truth. I suspect the folks in Murfresboro will know what I mean in a few weeks. I am glad I feel that pride, but I am ashamed that it took something that devestating to make me feel it, and I hope and pray, no one else learns those lessons the way I did.
The mountains are calling, and I must go.