Last night the sirens went off and we had to hustle our family to the storm shelter. We started to get ready as soon as an alert was texted out, since, frankly, it’s intimidating getting six little kids out to safety. One was actually in the bathtub so it was all, “Hurry, honey! Let’s get dressed!” and, aside, “Mary!! Pack a diaper bag!!” So, what would you pack in a tornado bag? Would you pack for comfort or distraction? Where would books or writing figure in?
Don’t worry. Our two-year old did manage to step in the only pile of doggie doo in our yard before heading into our close quarters below.
The door is heavy and awkward and the steps are steep and high, so its some work accompanied by hurrying and waiting. We have a light, so that’s nice. The walls, however, are bound to remind me of references to whitewash in Scripture, which is not particularly comforting. Colorful chairs and a storage tub of supplies greet us in a more friendly fashion, as does an old, faded children’s plastic-picnic table.
It’s an echo chamber down there. The daring might tell some mighty fine ghost stories, but not me. I had to pack aiming for normalcy and family warmth. Below I’ll list what I took, but what would you? And what would those things say about your personality and character?
For the sake of our little mental quandry, let’s assume food & water, blankets & seating, basic necessities—including kiddos, pets, the elderly, whatever—are safe and already provided. In our case though, Internet is out. What could we gather for emotional, intellectual, and psychological support at a moments notice?
At a moment’s notice I grabbed:
And, on the off chance our house actually would blow away, my fearless leader brought down our most expensive bottle of whisky. (You can read about that little number here.)
Maybe I’ll be struck with inspiration for something better next time for the ol’ tornado bag.
Stay safe, folks, and know your comforts.