Category: Reflections

I had a surreal experience last night.

I was sitting in my living room and looked up to see a 7-year-old version of myself. She was sitting on the couch immersed in a book. A Junie B. Jones book, to be exact. Just like I read 20-something years ago.

But this girl had my husband’s eyes and curly hair.

It’s no surprise to the people who know us that my daughter is my very own mini-me. She is so smart, but sometimes a know-it-all. She is a friend to everyone she meets. And, sometimes, she can be a bit dramatic.

(By “sometimes” I mean “at least once a day.”)

I remember finding out that we had a daughter on the way. Our first child. I immediately thought of the chick flicks, the Starbucks dates, and the mani/pedi outings I used to have with my own mom.

And now, I’m living the dream with my own little girl.

My daughter prefers bright pink or purple nail polish. She’s regulated to hot chocolate instead of coffee right now. And our chick flicks mostly involve princesses. But man, what a life to live.

At one point last night, she interrupted her reading to inform me: “You know, momma. Junie B. Jones is kind of rude.”

She’s not wrong.

And we’ve had conversations about it. Not every character we read about is one we’d want to emulate. It’s good to ask critical questions about what we read so that we can use those stories to help us make our own good decisions.

I pray she continues to have those thoughts. And that she includes me in those moments.

Because, as my mini-me, I know what she might come up against in the future. The things she’ll struggle with and the areas she may need to refine. And it’s my privilege to be a part of that growth.

What a responsibility it is to be a parent. What a challenge it is to parent yourself.

And what a joy it all is.

Yesterday, I turned 34 years old.

Which, honestly, sounds a lot older than I feel.

I’ve never been one to get hung up on age. Birthdays don’t intimidate me and I’m not shy about sharing my age. I get a year older every year, so why fight it?

But in a lot of ways, a 34-year-old sounds like someone know has their life together. Someone who has a solid grip on everything and is a real grown up.

And in some respects I can own that. I have a mortgage and pay my bills on time. My kids, ages 5 and 7, are alive and thriving (if you count “living on peanut butter and applesauce” thriving).

But in some ways, I still feel like I’m making it up as I go.

For example, I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. I do feel like I’m right where I need to be in a job with incredible purpose and impact, but to an extent I still wonder what my future holds. Which goals to chase after. Which dreams are just dreams and which dreams are actually a calling.

Dreams are different than they used to be. Like lots of people, I’ve had seasons where I dreamed of fame and fortune. Dreams that were wide-eyed and fanciful.

Now, my dreams are quieter, but just as profound. How can I spend more time with my kids? How do I have the biggest and most positive impact on the people around me?

So at 34 years and 1 day, I’m content with working hard at what’s in front of me and still allowing myself to dream.

And, as childish as it sounds, it can be fun to dream.

The weather is changing and, in my mind, that means one thing.

It’s almost time to plant my garden.

I love my garden. It’s my place of refuge, a connection to nature, a tangible way to see the (literal) fruits of my labor.

But the first step to planting a successful garden is not to buy my seeds. It’s not even getting the dirt and fertilizer.

The first step is to make a plan.

My goal is to expand my garden this year and to protect it from some of the furry friends who live in my yard. And I simply can’t do successfully that if I jump in with both feet and don’t make a plan.

So yesterday I started to plan.

I looked at what I have. I mapped out what I want. I talked with my husband about the best way to build a protective fence without stealing from the beauty of the flowers. I figured out where I’m putting the cucumbers and the tomatoes and the herbs. I decided which flowers to plant and where to plant them.

And, hopefully, in a few months I will have the best garden I’ve had in years.

Preparation is the key to success in so many things. Taking the appropriate steps is key to making something turn out as perfect as possible. Marriage, finances, job opportunities — the more work you put in on the front end, the better chance you have of being successful.

What are you working on? Have you put in the right steps to make sure you’re sufficiently prepared?

I wrote this several years ago, but on this 15th anniversary I felt it appropriate to repost here.

My mom, Eileen, and I looking at my dorm building after the EF4 tornado that hit Union University. Photo by Stephanie Schroeder for Union University.

---

Feb. 5, 2008 is a day I will always remember. I was a freshman at Union University in Jackson, Tennessee. My roommates and I had just decorated our dorm room — we had apartment-style dorms with a living room, kitchen, bathroom and four individual bedrooms — and I was just getting into the groove of my second semester classes.

I remember getting a call from my dad when I was at lunch that unseasonably warm day. It was unusual for him to call at that time of day, but he was just saying hello and telling me to watch the weather. Things might get bad in my neck of the woods later.

I remember walking to my dorm, loving the sun. My friends and I talked about how nice it was outside.

I remember hearing several knocks at the door as girls from upstairs and across the complex came to our room when the weather started to get bad. The dorm building across the complex had a tendency to flood when it rained hard, one of the girls explained.

I remember noticing the wind picking up. Reports from Memphis were coming in. It didn’t look pretty. We decided to move to the room at the corner of the building, which was unoccupied. It didn’t have windows — you know, just in case the wind throws something our way. The resident assistant had a key, so the 20-or-so of us filed in.

I remember my friend Beth saying if the drains start to suck in, a tornado is on the way. Not a minute later, the girl standing in the bathroom said something about the sink sucking in. At that same moment, the resident assistant — who had been looking out the front door — turned around with terror in her eyes and told us to get into the bathroom.

I remember being one of the last ones in the bathroom because I went to deadbolt the front door. Because that would keep a tornado out.

I remember all of us huddled in the bathroom. My friend Jess asked why we went in a bathroom with a window. There are no windows in the bathrooms on Union’s campus. The wall was gone and she was being rained on. The only thing between us and the outside was the thin plastic side of the tub.

I remember rubbing the back of the girl next to me. She was crying. Someone starting singing “Amazing Grace.” We joined in, trying to pray, drown out the sound of debris and ignore the furniture flying around the room. All the doors — including the one I dead-bolted — were flapping open and shut with the storm.

I remember it stopping. I looked down and a cinder block was sitting next to me to my right. The wall it came from was to my left. I don’t know how it didn’t hit me.

I remember walking back to our room, handing out shoes to the girls who were wearing flip-flops and slippers. My shoes were too small for anyone else. I put on my bright green rain boots. I still have them somewhere, but the left boot is patched with bright green duct tape. I stepped on something that night that sprung a leak, but I can’t seem to throw the boots away.

I remember firemen coming to the door, telling us we had to go to the commons building. There was a gas leak and we were in danger. Glass covered the floor of the commons and we huddled under the stairs until we were told to move again. It was still too dangerous and we were told to walk across campus to White Hall, the science and nursing building. Oh, and another line of storms was coming, so we had to hurry.

I remember thinking everything seemed so surreal. It was a like a scene from a movie — greenish dark skies, red and blue lights from emergency vehicles piercing through. Power lines down. Cars flipped over, some thrown into buildings.

I remember several guys walking up to me and my friends as we made our way across campus. They were trying to find some way to help other students. If they saw someone bleeding, they took of their shirt and tore off some fabric to fashion a bandage. One asked if there were any friends we were concerned about. We told them a few girls were in the Kappa Delta house and we hadn’t been able to get in touch with them. He turned and ran toward the sorority houses to check on our friends.

I remember moving from White Hall to the Penick Academic Complex, the main building on campus. The nursing students were using White Hall as a triage center and the administration was trying to get everyone together to see who was safe, who was hurt and who missing.

I remember seeing one of my friends on our way to the PAC. He was a student photographer for the university and was taking photos of the storm and the chaos. I told him to go inside and he said he’d be safe but he had a job to do. I understand what he said now that I have worked as a journalist, but I didn’t understand it that night.

I remember talking to my parents and then letting my friends call their parents on my cell phone. Mine was the only one working consistently.

I remember getting into a van with five of my friends. People from the community had come to campus to pick up students and give us a place to stay. I don’t know whose house I stayed at that night, but I do remember watching CNN as they showed live footage of my campus. My friends and I were trying to spot our cars in the rubble.

I remember calling my best friend. “Are you watching the news?” I asked. Luckily, she said no. I told her not to turn it on yet. My school had been hit by a tornado. I was safe and at a stranger’s house. It looks bad. She turned on the TV and started crying. “But I’m okay. I’m safe,” I kept repeating.

I remember the next day, the six of us packing back into the stranger’s van to meet our parents at a Mexican restaurant. My mom and dad drove up from Atlanta as soon as the weather had passed. When they saw me, my dad asked how I was and if I had anything with me. There I was, standing in a borrowed hoodie, tattered jeans and leaking rain boots. I pulled my dead phone and the toothbrush the nice stranger had purchased for me that morning out of the front pocket of the hoodie. Dad gave me a dollar — all he had in his wallet — so I had something else.

I remember standing in line at the Chi Omega house to get an escort so I could go check out my car. Miraculously, it was in one piece! The cars around it were flipped and windows were shattered, but mine was fine other than the scratched paint. I did a happy dance in the parking lot.

The next few weeks were insane. We learned it was an EF4 tornado that had destroyed part of our campus. Many of my friends lost everything that had been in their dorms. I got a lot of my stuff back, but not things like the Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy dolls my grandmother made me. Classes were obviously postponed, but the administration did an amazing job at working with students to give us a chance to recover while making sure seniors could graduate in a timely manner.

I was in Atlanta before classes started back up. The insurance/body shop guy I had to go to to get my car repainted asked me what happened to scratch it up so bad. When I told him I was a student at Union University and we were hit by a tornado he said, “Hm, must not have been a big deal. I didn’t hear about it.” Dad put his hand on my shoulder, reminding both of us to keep our cool.

Feb. 5 has never been the same. I think of my friends. I think of Union’s (now former) President David Dockery, the administration and my teachers who risked their lives that night to save students who were trapped under rubble.

No one died that night. Some students went to the hospital, and I believe four had to stay for an extended period of time because of their injuries. But no one died. That, in and of itself, is a miracle.

On Feb. 5, I remind myself that I am alive. I remind myself that the kindness of strangers, the support of friends and the leadership of Union University have played huge rolls in my life. I remind myself of the power of wind and rain and how it should not be overlooked.

Most of all, I remind myself that “Amazing Grace” isn’t just a song to me. I believe God showed our campus amazing grace and protection that night. To me, “Amazing Grace” is a comfort in storms of all sizes. It is a truth I will never forget.