{"id":17283,"date":"2026-03-10T14:04:19","date_gmt":"2026-03-10T14:04:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/gpbookstore.org\/articles\/uncategorized\/a-tornado-taught-her-the-true-meaning-of-a-perfect-christmas\/"},"modified":"2026-04-10T06:03:21","modified_gmt":"2026-04-10T06:03:21","slug":"a-tornado-taught-her-the-true-meaning-of-a-perfect-christmas","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/gpbookstore.org\/articles\/inspiring-stories\/stories-of-faith-and-hope\/a-tornado-taught-her-the-true-meaning-of-a-perfect-christmas\/","title":{"rendered":"A Tornado Taught Her the True Meaning of a Perfect Christmas"},"content":{"rendered":"

Our house looked like the holiday spread in a decorating magazine, with garland framing the front door, stockings on the mantelpiece and bowls of cinnamon spice potpourri scattered about. But was it possible for a wife and mother ever to be completely ready for Christmas? Nine days, that\u2019s what I had\u2014and a million things to do. How would I get our Christmas cards done<\/a> when I couldn\u2019t even take a decent picture of the kids to put in it?<\/p>\n

\u201cBoys!\u201d I snapped, on edge. \u201cPicture time.\u201d Jackson, four, and 19-month-old Clay came running. I\u2019d taken 72 shots of them and wasn\u2019t happy with a one. This warm Saturday morning I was determined to get it right, even if the boys would be hot in the outfits I\u2019d chosen. I fussed with the presents and rearranged the porcelain Nativity with Baby Jesus front and center, animals in a neat semicircle around him. Everything had to be perfect.<\/a><\/p>\n

I popped a roll of 36 into the camera and looked through the viewfinder. Jackson was holding his favorite stuffed animal. \u201cHoney, we\u2019re not gonna put Rabbit in this picture, okay?\u201d Jackson handed him over, grudgingly. He loved Rabbit. He slept with that old thing every single night, and it showed. Rabbit\u2019s neck flopped to one side and his button eyes were off center. He was so threadbare I had to wash him in the gentle cycle inside a pillowcase. When Rabbit was in Jackson\u2019s arms, all was well with the world. But that didn\u2019t mean he belonged in our Christmas card picture.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, boys, heads together. Say cheese.\u201d Click.<\/em> \u201cClay! Sit still.\u201d Click.<\/em> \u201cSmile. No funny faces, Jackson.\u201d I took the last shot as my husband, Richey, came into the living room.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Jackson,\u201d he said, \u201clet\u2019s hit the mall for some last-minute shopping.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood idea,\u201d I said. \u201cClay and I will get the film developed at that one-hour place by Mama and Daddy\u2019s. Mama and I still have to settle on the Christmas menu.\u201d<\/p>\n

I went to my room and put on something cooler. The weather wasn\u2019t exactly cooperating in the perfect Christmas department. Temperatures in the seventies! In December! I saw my Bible lying open on the nightstand and closed it. That book stayed as close to me nights as Jackson\u2019s Rabbit did to him. Lord<\/em>, I prayed, help me prepare for your day<\/em>.<\/p>\n

My big guys drove off. Clay and I went in the opposite direction. We dropped off the film, and I looked up to see an eerie gray bank of clouds approaching. Tornado weather. I flicked on the car radio. \u201cWarnings are in effect for the following counties,\u201d the announcer said. Thank heavens, South Tuscaloosa County, where we live, was in the clear.<\/p>\n

By the time we got to Mama and Daddy\u2019s, the wind was howling. \u201cCarla!\u201d Daddy said. \u201cWhere are Richey and Jackson? That tornado\u2019s a real threat.\u201d I prayed they were safe and rushed to the TV. The forecast had changed. \u201cIf you are in South Tuscaloosa County,\u201d the meteorologist said, \u201cget to your safe place<\/a> immediately<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s get to the Jaggerses\u2019 basement,\u201d Daddy said. I swept Clay up in my arms. Halfway there, Daddy turned and looked behind him. His eyes said fear. I had to see for myself. I looked\u2014<\/p>\n

A black, undulating mass, huge as a building, bore down on us. \u201cRun!\u201d I screamed. Mr. Jaggers met us at the door. \u201cEverybody\u2019s downstairs!\u201d he shouted. We scrambled into the basement and bolted the door. What about Richey and Jackson? Lord, keep them safe. Keep us all safe. That\u2019s all I ask.<\/em><\/p>\n

Finally the wind died down. It was okay to go outside. That first step into daylight was always the worst. You never knew what would be waiting out there. A yard strewn with tree branches\u2014or an empty hole where a house once stood. We came out of the basement to find the neighborhood unscathed. Mama and Daddy were lucky. What about my house?<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI have to get home,\u201d I said. Richey was probably already there with Jackson.<\/p>\n

\u201cDaddy will go with you,\u201d Mama said. \u201cI\u2019ll keep Clay here. Just in case\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

All the way home traffic lights were out, water spewed from hydrants, big oaks lay uprooted. We turned into our neighborhood. Folks stood outside their houses\u2014some with sections of roof missing. Furniture, paper, clothes, appliances and lumber lay everywhere. \u201cJust drive, Baby,\u201d Daddy said. We reached our street. My heart pounded. Houses untouched by the storm stood next to others that had been destroyed. I turned the corner. And then I saw our house\u2014the picture-perfect house with the garland around the door. The home I had readied for Christmas.<\/p>\n

The garage and front porch were demolished. The second story was ripped clean off. The first floor\u2019s interior walls stood bare and exposed. A stray garland dangled from a pipe. Richey and Jackson walked up. I got out of the car and fell into my husband\u2019s arms. Daddy took Jackson. \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Richey said. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hand in hand, we stepped over the threshold of what had been our house and picked our way through the debris to the spot where the Christmas tree had been. We\u2019ve lost everything<\/em>, I thought. Everything.<\/em><\/p>\n

I made my way to our bedroom and wiped the tears and dust from my eyes. Then I saw it\u2014my Bible, lying on the bed-side table, exactly as I had left it that morning. I opened the cover. The inside was wet and gritty. The acrid, fishy smell of the storm permeated each page. But it was there, still there, unmoved even by a tornado. Yes, Lord, you kept me and my family safe. Thank you.<\/em><\/p>\n

Friends showed up.<\/a> They took our linens home to wash, boxed up what was salvageable, carted off furniture to storage. Somebody we didn\u2019t know delivered sandwiches and coffee. Darkness and rain stopped our work. We camped out at Mama and Daddy\u2019s for the night. Clay was young enough to think this was an adventure. Jackson kept up a brave front.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s so much to do,\u201d I moaned to Richey when we finally lay down to rest. \u201cWhere do we start?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWith a good night\u2019s sleep, Carla. Close your eyes,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

The next day, December 17, dawned clear and cold. We were back at the house by 8 a.m., sifting through the wreckage. Jackson had begged to come with us. I watched him out in the backyard, hands clasped behind his back, head down, moving through the debris one step at a time. I knew what he was looking for. Rabbit. We\u2019ve lost everything we own, and all Jackson can think about is Rabbit.<\/em><\/p>\n

Just a day before I was worried about the packages under the tree, our Christmas cards, the dinner menu. Now there were no presents. There was no tree. No house to celebrate in. There was no Christmas. But Jackson didn\u2019t comprehend the totality of our loss. For him, there was simply no Rabbit. And that sting distracted him from the real pain of realizing we had been completely wiped out. Maybe, in a strange way, that would be Rabbit\u2019s final comfort for my son.<\/p>\n

I wondered about all the people surrounding us, friends and strangers alike. Their Christmases hadn\u2019t been ruined. What about their last-minute preparations? What were they doing here with us? Nobody talked much while we worked, but word got around about what Jackson was looking for so hard.<\/p>\n

A coworker of Richey\u2019s found a framed photograph of Richey and me in his yard, five miles away. I had always cherished that picture. It was taken in the early days of our marriage when we used to talk a lot about what was most important to us<\/a> and what we wanted out of life. To love and be loved, we agreed, first by God and each other and the family we hoped to start. I stooped down and pulled a soaked baby sock from a pile of bricks. A lady crouched next to me. \u201cWe all put a few Santa gifts in the backseat of your car for the boys,\u201d she whispered. The woman patted my shoulder and went back to sifting through the wreckage.<\/p>\n

I looked up at the sky. To love and be loved<\/em>, I thought. We did, and we were. The worst had happened<\/a>: The tornado had blown apart my perfect Christmas. But Christmas didn\u2019t need me to make it perfect. Wasn\u2019t it perfect already? Made perfect by the love God sent the world 2,000 years ago. That\u2019s where Richey and I would start to rebuild our lives: We\u2019d start with Christmas. I never thought I\u2019d say it, but I was truly ready for it.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, everybody!\u201d my brother-in-law shouted. \u201cLook over here! Look what I found!\u201d He held something high above his head. Jackson scrambled over the rubble. \u201cRabbit! You\u2019re alive!\u201d Jackson grabbed him and danced around. Everyone cheered. All was well with the world. It was Christmas, all right.<\/p>\n

I had a hard time choosing a photograph of the boys from that last roll of 36. Tree out of focus, the boys engaged in high jinks\u2026every shot was a winner. Not perfect, maybe, but real.<\/p>\n

Last night in our new house, three years after the tornado, Jackson slept soundly in his room with Rabbit. I sat in my room with my Bible open in my lap. I\u2019ve grown accustomed to the smell, but I\u2019m still cleaning the pages. I take my time. I slide my hand down, wiping off the grit slowly, clearing verses before I read the truth of their words. The grit in my Bible kept me real while I prepared this past Christmas. I left the perfect for the One who is.<\/p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Our house looked like the holiday spread in a decorating magazine, with garland framing the front door, stockings on the mantelpiece and bowls of cinnamon spice potpourri scattered about. But was it possible for a wife and mother ever to be completely ready for Christmas? Nine days, that\u2019s what I had\u2014and a million things to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":28,"featured_media":27331,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"ep_exclude_from_search":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[185],"tags":[159,24,15,25,46,16,56,236],"ppma_author":[1829],"class_list":["post-17283","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-stories-of-faith-and-hope","tag-bible","tag-christmas","tag-faith","tag-family","tag-friends","tag-god","tag-loss","tag-storms"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nA Tornado Taught Her the True Meaning of a Perfect Christmas - Guideposts Articles<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"noindex, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"A Tornado Taught Her the True Meaning of a Perfect Christmas\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Our house looked like the holiday spread in a decorating magazine, with garland framing the front door, stockings on the mantelpiece and bowls of cinnamon spice potpourri scattered about. 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