Tornado warning? No worries for Margaret

I’d pulled up in the car line at Oakley Elementary and my fifth grader bounced into the car, slinging her backpack into the backseat.

“Hey, Mommy! Hey, Charlie! Come sit with me, buddy. That’s a good boy.” Margaret buckled up as our beagle stepped into her lap.

“Hey Margaret, how was your day at school?”

Margaret shook her head. “Not so good: there was a tornado warning.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that.”

Margaret talked fast. “It was awful because I needed to go to the restroom, but we had to sit in the hall with our heads down and we were in the downstairs hall with the kindergartners and first and second graders and it was really crowded and hot and boring.”

“You had to go to the restroom?” I asked.

She continued. “Yeah but at first I didn’t have to go that bad so I told Mrs. Seals I could wait but then after like 20 minutes or something I told her that I really did have to go and so I went but it was so embarrassing because there were girls sitting in the bathroom—because see the hall was so crowded that some girls had to sit in there the whole time—and so all those girls knew I was going to the bathroom. . . .”

“I bet that was embarrassing,” I said.

“Yeah, it sure was,” she nodded rapidly. “Oh, but Mommy, some kids were really scared about the tornado and some were even crying.” Keeping one hand on Charlie, she gestured, emphasizing her point, “I’m talking about kids who don’t ever cry, they were crying. Like Natalie? She never cries but she started crying because she has family in Black Mountain and somebody said the tornado was headed out to Black Mountain, you know, and so she started crying and Brandon he started crying—you know Brandon he is that big tough boy—and he never cries, you know, he never cries, ever, and he cried, because he was worried about his grandparents, because they don’t watch TV or listen to the radio, so he was scared they would be caught in the tornado because they hadn’t heard about it, and how would they hear about it if they didn’t listen to the news, you know? and then of course Taylor cried because her family lives in a mobile home and, I don’t know if you knew this Mommy, but—did you know this?—it is really, really, super dangerous to be in a mobile home when there is a tornado, and her whole house could have just blown away, so of course she was crying.“

“Of course,” I agreed.

“Yeah that was really scary for her. A lot of kids were crying . . . .” Margaret’s story was winding down, but she hadn’t yet mentioned how she felt during the whole thing.

“So, Margaret, were you scared?” I asked.

“Nope,” she said with certainty.

I was surprised. “Not at all?”

“Well, I was a little worried about Charlie.” Hearing his name, Charlie turned to face her, expectant. “Yeah, I was worried about my little buddy,” Margaret told him, scratching his ears as he leaned into her.

“Yeah, Charlie pretty much freaked out,” I told her, “You know how he gets in a storm.”

“Was he shaking?” She asked, knowing. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.

I chuckled. “More like quaking.”

“Poor Charlie,” Margaret said shaking her head, cuddling him close, speaking into his fur. “I knew it; I just knew it.”

“So that was all you were worried about, really?”

“Yep,” she said, repositioning Charlie so his white-tipped tail could swing free.

“Good for you, Margaret. I’m glad you were not fearful.”

“Well,” she said, shrugging her shoulders and stroking her beagle’s back, “I figured if there was anything to be worried about, Daddy would take care of it.”

 

Preschool Margaret & her Daddy, wearing each other’s hats.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?”                    Matthew 6:25-27

By Aileen MItchell Lawrimore

Aileen Mitchell Lawrimore is a mother x 3, wife x 35 (years not men), minister, speaker, writer, retreat leader, and lover of beagles and books. She has a lot to say.

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