The afternoon slides soft and silky across my arms, the overhead fan sifts my bangs,and the ocean sings through open window. The little Singer whirs, and she stitches a hem in soft white cotton, making billowy curtains to catch the sea breeze like a sail, but now she stops to listen.
Somewhere on this planet, the wind ran amok. . . left its boundaries and gouged a path a mile wide, and twenty miles long, indifferent to an elementary school that lay in its path, its cell leaping over the university where my beloved nephew, so far from home, studies, before it dropped its screaming load next door, one town over.
Images of roads winding through open fields fill the TV screen. . .and then second thought comes. . .these are not fields.
These were neighborhoods.
The cell phone beeps, social media signals, my mother calls, my brother in law writes, "He is fine." And finally nephew surfaces with a few lines, "No words. . .gut wrenching. . .the silence. . .unbelievable. . .terrible. . ."
And the cage of my theology rattles. It always rattles in the path of a tornado.
My theology holds for man's evil to man.
But a tornado rips the seams, expands the rib cage, lifts the heart into the vortex of stinging rain and darkness ripped by lightning, and draws up such a grief that will not express itself. Instantly, the earth's people become less, and something more. . .a widow stands where once stood a husband, the childless replaces the parent, the orphan the child, the homeless the homeowner, the dismembered the one once whole. . .
And, i want to shout to the heavens, "What were you thinking?". . . and struggle for truth.
Because He is the same God today that He was yesterday. He knew when the location of the school was chosen and the foundation was laid in the path of today's destruction. He knew. And if He did not stop it, He knows more.
In His economy, one life led to salvation is worth it. Any child we lost today went immediately into His presence and is whole, and loved, and filled with unbelievable joy. . .And only He knew why this was better for each one, than a life that lingered longer here.
i stumble with words. But i know.
God is good. He will provide a comfort like nothing on this earth.
Watch, Beloved. Watch for Him. There is a wind that comes through every window.
Miss Bennett: "Books— oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings." 
"I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. . ."
"Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. . . For you alone, I think and plan. "
"My beloved is mine and I am his." ~ Song of Solomon
