This past April, Amy’s mom’s house was destroyed in the Tuscaloosa, AL tornadoes.  So, when we went down to Tuscaloosa for Thanksgiving to see Amy’s family this past weekend, I went to see the property for the first time since it had been destroyed.

We have so much to be thankful for. Amy’s mom survived the tornado and started over in Tennessee, less than two miles away from our house. She has already made lifelong friends here, and found a home church that she loves – and as a preacher’s widow, that may be the most surprising turn of all.  But that’s another story.

My middle son, the 8 year-old tender-hearted warrior, still couldn’t bear to ride by and see the wrecked land when so many sweet memories still survive in his mind.  But Amy drove me by. We got out and walked, but it was too much to take in, and yet there was nothing there.  I’ll have to wait a while before I know how to write about what I experienced, but here’s what 4 year old Ben had to say.

“Is Grandmama’s house living with God?”

“Does he have our toys?  Or do we get new toys in heaven?”

Seemed like he was OK either way.

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