Lake Days and Trauma Bonding

Have you ever had one of those moments where you reap the not so great consequences of a choice you didn't realize was flawed in the moment you made it? Yeah?

Me too.

If you've been around for a while you know I have kids. A lot of them. Eight to be exact. And this summer, we have enjoyed having regular family movie nights watching mostly older movies like Dan in Real Life. A couple weeks ago, the kids really wanted to watch Twister. And you know what? Why not? So, we did.

Fast forward to Tuesday.

A friend reached out Tuesday morning suggesting a spontaneous lake day. Between the weather this summer and all the crazy we've had going on, I've had some major mom guilt over how few escapades we've had this summer, so I loaded up the kids and we went to the lake.

It was gorgeous out! Mid eighties, slightly cloudy but still plenty of blue sky. And we packed some card games just in case a rain storm rolled in and we needed to retreat to the shelter. It was the first time all summer we've seen this group of friends, and it was a happy reunion.

In total, the group consisted of four moms and about twenty-seven kids.

In true Tennessee fashion, after a couple short hours in the lake, a thunderstorm rolled in. Once lightning was spotted, we pulled everyone out of the lake and settled in the shelter with games.

That's when things started to take a turn. All around the shelter, phones started chiming with weather advisories. 

Tornado warning.

Seek cover immediately.

My eight-year-old heard the words tornado warning and immediately burst into tears. Yep. That's right. Her mind went straight to the movie. I'm hugging her, telling her it's okay and we are going to be fine while the other three moms and I take a look at the weather maps to get an idea of what's going on. 

We were right on the line of the area under warning, but the path home would take us right through the middle of it.

We're checking the sky, looking for all of the signs of a tornado and discussing what the safest course of action is. Of the four of us, only one had ever been in a tornado before, and although parts of Tennessee experience tornados, they aren't very common in East Tennessee where we are.

It was during our deliberations that it happened.

The insects went silent.

The wind and rain dissipated in an instant.

The world around us was still.

Have you ever heard the expression, the heavens opened? It wasn't the heavens that opened this time.

It was hell.

As if following an invisible cue, the rain, thunder, and lightning attacked while gusts of wind strong enough to carry away shoes swirled through the open shelter. Kids screamed. My seven and eight-year-olds burst into hysterics, clinging to me for their lives.

"Mommy! Mommy, I love you!" my eight-year-old cried as I tried to run uphill with her and my seven-year-old on opposite hips.

We crammed everyone inside the steel and cinder block bathroom, trusting it as our safest option.

For forty minutes we hunkered together in that sauna, sweat rolling down our skin, children whimpering in the corners. When the weather finally calmed we slowly filtered out of the bathroom, gathering beneath the awning for a group picture. I would include the photographed proof, but probably shouldn't be blasting out pictures of my friends' children in bathing suits, so you'll have to take my word for it.

With the rain calmed enough to escape, we grabbed what was left of our belongings from the shelter and bolted, making it home to a house with a flooded creek and no electricity. 

We rescued the chickens from drowning, then played cards (with what was left of our soggy decks) by lantern light until my husband made it home with pizza for dinner.

Thankfully, we avoided any real catastrophe. I'd rather have memories of amusement parks and exciting excursions to look back on this summer with, but there's no doubt in my mind this is a summer we won't soon forget.

Until next time,

Amora Blake