Thankfully it was just a small tornado, but some old ladies in the neighborhood really saw it skip throughout our neighborhood, and one of the places it touched down was in my backyard. My house is fine, but my fence died a quick and dramatic death. I heard a neighbor’s trampoline ended up on someone else’s fence, and a few others lost their chimneys. My neighbor’s tree snapped in half and two others suffered fence damage, but my yard seems to have fared the worst.

This tornado hit the day after my sister’s wedding, so I hadn’t slept in a week. It was the most amazing wedding in the history of weddings, but as with any big event, exhaustion plus emotion plus constant activity for days in a row makes for a delicate emotional state. So you can probably imagine my reaction when my house got hit by a tornado. Let’s just say that it was terribly scary for two minutes, and after the wind died down and I saw the damage, I did the only thing I knew to do.

I called Mr. Right. And started crying.

And he did the sweetest thing ever. He dropped everything and drove across town to take care of me. Even though I told him not to, even though I told him I was fine and there wasn’t anything he could do to fix the damage, he still came. He brought me lunch, rubbed my shoulders, and then left me to a much-needed nap while he did other things around my house.

Now the rain has stopped. The house is quiet. He’s in his study, working on homework and I’m sipping on a big cup of comfort coffee and enjoying the stillness of the early evening. I’m thanking God that he spared my house, kept me safe, and gave me a man who is so wonderfully fantastic. I am blessed.

And I am going to bed early.