"I cannot remember what life was like through photographs; trying to recreate images life gives us from our past..."

"...sometimes it's a sad song."

I gotten out some since the storm came through. In some ways I needed to see things. I needed to know why friends, family, and strangers are in so much pain in so many ways. I needed to know how extremely lucky I was that the tornado changed directions when it did. It was coming right at the church, but turned about a mile, maybe a little more, before it got here. In some ways I needed to see the damage. In some ways I wish I hadn't.

I find what most hurts me now and over the past few weeks is the hurt I see in people's eyes, especially my friends. I see the hurt of ten years worth of change that happened in a few hours; like you moved and then came back and things changed. But nobody moved away. I feel the pain that people have, whether they talk about it or not. I see the hurt and feel the pain that they just want to go away.It's with them every time they come in the church. And in a way I glad for that. Not that the pain is there, but for most people who come in here, they can show that hurting and hopefully begin to let it go and continue to let it go until it's gone. I hope all churches can be like that for people, no matter the denomination.

I hear people say that for some things the pain never goes away - the sudden death of a close friend or family member, natural disasters, abuse. For me, this is no so much the case. For me, the pain yields to scars, scars like the ones on my legs or hands. They no longer hurt, but every time I see the scar I am reminded of why it's there - how it got there, how it shaped me. Everyone has scars whether we see them or not. And every scar has a story to tell.

"And mama I’ve been cryin’ cause things ain’t how they used to be. She said the battle's almost won, and we're only seven miles from the sun."

"I promise you not a moment will be lost as long as I have heart and voice to speak..."

"...and we will walk again together with a thousand others and a thousand more and on and on until there is no one among us who does not know the truth:"

The more things change, the more different things start to look. I had planned on writing a reflection on this past semester around this time. I had planned on writing about my fraternity and my pledges, about school, about church life. I had planned to be enjoying some time not having to worry about too many things before the "real world" began after graduation in December. I had plans. But that seems like a semester ago in itself.

Then a tornado came and mixed things up. No metaphors or symbols or anything like that here. A literal fucking tornado came through and did as it pleased where it pleased. Routines are gone. Things are gone. People are gone. To hear people talk about it has mixed results. Some talk of survival; most talk of tragedies. At first it made me feel fortunate that it wasn't like Katrina or Japan or Haiti. At first we we weren't on that list.

I am here at the church, as I have been since Tuesday. That's where I'm told I'm needed. Not to do much physical labor. Not to give much instruction on what to do or where to go. I'm here to give people support. To let them know what has and is going to happen. As the days go on, I can't say they're getting much easier. The life of a support beam is not an attention grabbing one. Most people see them, but never notice how much work they are doing just by being there. I know not everyone is fit to have that kind of job. I'm not sure I am completely fit to have that job. But it's mine all the same.

When people ask me what I have done to aid in relief, I can't say a lot. I can't say I went out and cleaned up debris. I can't say I took food to people who needed it. I can't say I've been physically worn out everyday since the storm. I can say I've been here to listen to people who need to talk. I can say I've said thank you more times in the past week than I could ever start to count. I can say I've gotten people in touch with who they needed to talk to, for whatever reason. I can say I'm still here, and will be until I'm not.

there is no future without love."