What it's like to live in Moore...

This is the parking lot of the hospital where my son's pediatrician's office was. It is across the street from the neighborhood behind my apartment complex. I regularly ran in front of this hospital.

Honestly... I am still processing what happened 11 days ago.

I was not directly affected. My home was untouched. My family healthy.

But I am scarred somehow.

Prior to May 20th a typical day involved my son waking up. I would feed him and get dressed for a quick run. We would run through our town... down the same streets each day. Through neighborhoods. By familiar businesses.

I have run these same streets for three years. 4-5 times a week (except for about a 4 month stint when I was, ya know, having a baby and stuff).

I drive these streets. To the library. To the doctor's office. To the store.

It's all gone.

I don't know how to describe the pain that takes over when I see these familiar places stripped down to their foundation.

Rows and rows of houses reduced to piles of plywood and insulation. Knowing what it has looked like for so many runs... knowing that each pile was once a home for a family. A family that brought babies home from the hospital, a family that saw children take their first steps, a family that shared meals, a family that healed from arguments, a family that grieved losses, a family that celebrated victories.

All gone.

We can't run through town anymore. The familiar routes are littered with mangled vehicles, pieces of memories from homes miles away and unrecognizable furniture among other things.

It's heartbreaking. Even for those of us whose lives are intact.

Because while everyone else can return home and forget and move on to the next tragedy on CNN...

I see it every time I go to the store. Every time I go to the library. Every time I take my son for a walk.

It is not all negative... however.

As the assistant for the pastors at my church I have received countless emails from churches across the country wanting to help.

In these past 11 days I have met sweet servants from New Mexico, Nebraska, New York, Texas, Missouri... the list goes on and on.

I wish I could truly express from the bottom of my heart how much this really means to me.

I don't know what my role in this is. I don't know why I live here at this time. I know that this process of healing and rebuilding will continue months after it has lost its time in the news. Months after volunteers have returned home.

But I will still be here. I will still be here to help clean. Help rebuild. Help heal.

All of this is to thank those who have donated, volunteered, and prayed. From the bottom of my heart.

Thank you all.