Helplessness is...

Taking a (rather lengthy, obviously) break from the song challenge game. I do actually have the next day's post written, just haven't gotten around to posting it yet.

Today, there's something more important.

As of right now (1:39 p.m., EST) CNN.com is reporting that 247 people died yesterday in storms across the Southeast. 162 of those were in my beloved home state of Alabama. I'm sure the number will grow, unfortunately. The videos and photos I'm seeing, particularly from Tuscaloosa, have left me absolutely stunned and speechless.

Tornadoes in Alabama are nothing new. I can't think of a spring or summer from my childhood that didn't have at least one big one. There was even a bad one right before Christmas when I was in high school. When I was about 7, I remember driving to school with my dad and seeing the top of a funnel cloud in our rearview mirror. I reached a point where I could look at the color of the sky over downtown-- even at night-- and tell if we needed to worry when the sirens went off. (Sirens go off if there's a tornado spotted anywhere in the county, but it's a big county and storms rarely come that close to where my parents live.)

In short, we think we know what to expect. But... wow.

I realize I'm like 1000 miles away, and there's nothing I can do if it gets bad, but I like to keep tabs on it when I hear there's going to be bad weather in Alabama. I pulled up the live stream on Abc3340.com as I was about to leave for the park to run with Pete. As I was about to walk out the door, I heard James Spann say there was a massive tornado in Tuscaloosa County. My brother lives in Tuscaloosa, at the University of Alabama. (He's fine, thank the good Lord.) I texted him quickly to say I was sure he already knew to get underground, but to be careful, and went on my merry way.

After my run, I got back in the car and almost immediately my phone rang. It was my Mother-in-Law's best friend, who hysterically told me to call my parents-- she was watching the news in Atlanta and they had a live picture of a giant tornado coming at Birmingham. I drove home as fast as was (mostly) legal and called my dad's cell phone. Nothing. Mom's cell phone. Nothing. Brother's cell phone. Nothing. House. No answer. I am about to throw up. Meanwhile I'm watching James Spann again, who's citing some tornado damage index I've never heard of and saying although they didn't think this number could get higher than 10, this storm is a 13.4. Just as I was about to call a friend whose parents live around the corner from mine, my mom called back to say everyone was fine.

While I am so incredibly thankful that my family and friends are alright and without any notable damage, I realize that there are far too many people out there who weren't so fortunate. What I've always found so terrible about weather is the randomness of it. You can work for years to build a house and life and it's gone in a matter of seconds. You can do everything right and go to the innermost room on the bottom floor and still get blown to the next county. And it's so frustrating to sit here warm and dry in my house on the other end of the country, enjoying the rain as the last little bit of this storm blows through my neighborhood. All I can do from here is donate money to the relief efforts, and I don't even have much of that. I can't help move tree limbs or hand out clothing or offer a couch to displaced friends. (I mean, obviously if any of you are ever displaced by a natural disaster or anything else you're welcome to stay on my couch. I'm just saying, Connecticut is a bit of a haul.) I know I'm rambling. I just hate being so far away and so helpless.

If you're in the Southeast, please take care and be safe. Let me know if there's anything I can do from here. Please, I mean it.