Some Thoughts on the Joplin Tornado, the Pandemic, and Phillipians 2

I’m from Joplin, Missouri.

In the summer of 2011, whenever we traveled and we mentioned that, people would gasp.  “Oh, were you impacted by the tornado?”

tornado photographs by Mark N

I remember we were asked that once.  And my first response was, “No.  My husband and I were both home, and we are on the other side of town. We didn’t even know about it at first.”

But then I realized that was wrong.  I’m from Joplin, Missouri.  Of course I was impacted by the tornado.

Two women, bloody and dirty came into our house minutes after the tornado as they described the horror of what happened. 

I woke up the morning after the tornado, tearing through my house trying to figure out what we could donate to those in need.

My husband helped with work crews with the church as I worked at the school handing out supplies.

I taught in a classroom in a warehouse for two and half years.

And most of all, I drove through town and saw the disaster.  I will never forget that moment we drove past Rangeline and I had no idea where I was, lost in the debris.  I still drive through town and can relive that moment.  I feel it when you pass from the shade of the old trees to the sunlight area of the part of town whose trees were not planted any later than May 22, 2011.

Yes, I was impacted.

But today, as I was thinking about that, I realized that the whole world is living through a disaster.  The whole world is living through fear and confusion.  Lost graduations.  Lost birthday parties.  And worse, far worse, some have lost loved ones. 

The economics.  The lost jobs.  Maybe it isn’t you, but it’s someone you know.

Friends, we are all impacted.  In some way.  Some more than others.

In 2011, I remember the compassion on people’s faces when you said, “I’m from Joplin.”  People paused, understanding for a moment that the pictures on the news they had seen weren’t just pictures; they were you, sitting in front of them ordering off the menu at a restaurant, passing through their town.  Not a story. A person.

Perhaps we should remember that compassion now.  As we look at each other, we should remember, we are all from the same world.  We are all in this particular trauma together.  And the news stories, the pictures, the statistics, they are people, they are neighbors, they are friends.

But the truth is, we should always look at people with that compassion.  The horrors of the world happen daily and they happen to all of us.  Death. Divorce. Broken relationships. Illness.  Depression. Financial instability. Loneliness.

It’s all there.  All the time.  Disasters and trauma amplify it.  But always, we are broken people, living at stories that are broken. Every person you see is dealing with one or more of these things.

Tonight the boys and I began to memorize Philippians 2:5.  “In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus.”

So I tried to talk about what that could mean.

Seek to include more than be included.

Seek to serve more than be served.

Seek to understand more than be understood.

In short, seek to love.

tornado photographs by Mark N

Being from Joplin, I learned that trauma impacts us all.  Being from Joplin, I learned people have compassion for suffering. 

May the whole planet remember this in this time.  Trauma impacts us all. Have compassion for suffering.

Or as Paul would say, “In your relations with one another have the same mindset as Christ Jesus.”

In short, love.

photograph by Mitzi Starkweather

Sheri Cornett

- Sheri is a reading teacher at a Joplin middle school, where she tries to create lifelong readers and lovers of words. She writes about her love of books, her experiences as a teacher and mother, and reflections on God and His sovereignty amidst suffering in her blog somethougthsbysheri.wordpress.com