When I first moved to Kansas, people told me: “If you don’t like the weather, wait a few minutes, and it will change.” I’ve heard this same sentiment in Oklahoma, too. The weather is unpredictable and constantly in flux. It can be cold and snowy one day—to the extent that the public library system closes down—and just a few days later, we stand outside in t-shirts, watching snowmen melt in sixty-degree weather.
The changeability of the weather makes me think of hope—because if you truly don’t like the weather you’re currently experiencing, it’ll change in a minute or two. The cold won’t last forever; it won’t even last long. The short month of February always seems to contain both an ice storm and a seventy-degree day or two. Overcast, drizzly days don’t come often, and I know that after a few days of grey skies, the fierce sunshine will be back in full force. It's like life with small children. It's like life in general. There's darkness and light, gloom and joy, all smashed together in a wild jumble.
My children and I were in the living room at a local home for the dying recently; it seemed like a fairly normal weekday. Letter flashcards were strewn across the floor, one child worked through a math book, other children chatted with volunteers in the kitchen. I held my baby up to one resident as we enjoyed watching the baby’s smiles and coos. Everything was peaceful, all was serene.
All at once, everything shifted. One child got scared of a (very gentle) service dog that entered the building. Another child made a mess and needed assistance in cleaning it up. The peaceful air was suddenly tinged with frenzy as multiple children needed me at once.
A nurse dashed up to me. “How can I help?”
I thrust the baby in her arms and turned to the other children. Soon, everyone was taken care of and all was peaceful once again. A different caregiver walked up, holding my baby. I thanked her and remarked that everything always seems to happen at once.
“When things get crazy, I usually don’t even have time to stress-text my husband,” I said, mentioning that things seem to quickly bounce back and forth between chaos and calm. Little did I know that within the next week, I would see this reality play out in a dramatic way.
It was late in the evening the next day when I received the message:
A flight from Wichita crashed.