Just know you're not alone, I'm gonna make this place your home....

Numb (noun): to be asleep, not showing human feeling or emotion. So frightened as to be unable to move. Stunned or paralyzed with terror.

Devastate (verb): to cause extensive destruction or ruin utterly. To overwhelm. The state of being destroyed. Excessive damage. Wreaking or capable of complete destruction.

These two words are the only two words that I can use to describe how I have felt over the past 24 hours. Yesterday was a normal Monday, or so it seemed. I woke up, I got my Starbucks, I made it to work 10 minutes early, clocked in, and began my routine. I knew it would be an interesting afternoon weather wise but I didn't think it would be a gut wrenching, horrific day. Around 230pm my phone began to buzz with alerts of tornadoes and that the city that I live in and have now called home for two years was under a “Tornado Emergency.” I only knew of a Tornado watch or warning but now an “emergency?” Emails began to pour in from HR saying if you were in Moore, Oklahoma to take cover immediately and go under ground. Weathermen stated that if you were to be above ground, you wouldn't survive. They predicted it to be worse than the May 3^rd tornado which also ripped apart the city of Moore in 1999.

In this moment, one roommate was at our home barely waking up from the ER night shift and the other roommate was on I-35 south headed for Moore. Where am I? In Edmond, 25 miles north, glue to a television and ready to throw my phone against a wall because cell phone reception wouldn't work. I didn't know exactly where they were. I just knew that a tornado a mile wide was heading their way. Those were the scariest 60 minutes of my life. I walked out of our break room only to walk back in 5 minutes later and see where I live, where I do life, where I watch movies, and where I buy my groceries, simply gone. I didn't know if my roommates were alive, I didn't know if my house was still in tact, and in that moment I have never been more paralyzed. I didn’t know what to think or how to feel. I never had experienced anything like this. This was not on the bucket list of memories to check off.

Finally after the tornado passed over, I came to find out that my roommates and friends were alive and I knew of no deaths that were personal to me. But as I stood there watching the news, I was hysterically crying on the phone. I couldn't understand what just happened. One of my friends just kept saying “Jenn, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.” He couldn't do anything. Sorry doesn't cut it . I'm here for you doesn't cut it. Nothing cuts it in that moment. You are not able to do anything but just watch in horror as what you know of as your home is literally plucked out of your hands. What I began to see was what you see on television, yet it's not your town. It's not where you live. It is where someone else lives. Where someone else grew up and went to church. Not where you, yourself personally live. I was in shock and I'm still in shock.

I sat at my desk last night numb as could be thinking about what if I would have lost those closest to me over the weekend while a strand of tornadoes tore through Oklahoma. What if I never said what needed to be said. What if the little girl I babysat, I dropped her off at school and she passed later that afternoon because she was under bricks and blocks? It happened though. It happened yesterday. It happened to more than 90 people. Parents, sisters, grandparents, friends, brothers, churches, dozens who will never see those that they cared about again. Tomorrow isn't promise. This afternoon isn't promised. You're not even promised to finish reading the end of this blog. Apart of me feels selfish for being so freaked out when realistically, I lost nothing. I am very fortunate but I feel horrible for those who lost everything.

I have learned that moments only last when you have them, in that actual moment. You can't keep them, they only become memories. I've learned to say what you need to say when it needs to be said. Even if it ruins things, even if it hurts like hell, even if you feel alone; stand for what you believe in and say what you feel. Live with no expectations, love radically, give grace freely, embrace when you want to walk away, and have faith even when you can't see what's next.

Even today, 24 hours later, I cannot comprehend what actually happened. I've never actually been apart of a tornado. I've seen them from a distance and even watched them happening 30-40 miles away, but not first hand. Not when the movie theatre you go to every Friday is considered ground zero, a mile from your house. It's just so surreal.

My heart is absolutely broken and all I can do is just pray or donate. I haven't been home yet to Moore and I probably won't be until later in the week. I'm sure it will hit me even harder when I am actually able to walk on the sidewalks and see the leveled homes. The roads are blocked and from what I have been told it takes at least an hour to get in and out. In this moment, I just want to be at home with my roommates, helping, serving, volunteering, giving water, doing anything I can, and I would really like to hug my dog.

My prayer is that hope, strength, and peace will rise together in unity throughout the city of Moore and state of Oklahoma. Let it not be about democrat or republican, baptist or catholic, gay or straight, black or white, but let it be about who can we help and how may we serve. I may only have lived here 3 years now, this weekend being the 3 year mark, but I have never felt more ownership and more at home in my entire life than yesterday and today. My grandmother even asked me if I was ready to move back north after the tornado and I said nope, probably never.

Oklahoma, I love you. You are home. Moore, I love you and you are home.