I’ll never forget this day. I was walking out to my car that was conveniently parked in the first parking space of the elementary school where I taught in New Braunfels, Texas. Because I was almost always the first one there. Thank you. It was about 3:30 in the afternoon when I left my classroom that day. Once outside, I looked up and was amazed at how dark and mysterious the northern sky was. Little did I know that an F-5 tornado had just redesigned the landscape in north, central Texas. I made my way south on I-35 to our San Antonio home. Upon reaching our driveway, I got a phone call from my mother. Her voice was frantic but she was not crying. She was concerned but not a basket case. She said, “An F-5 tornado just ripped through Jarrell and we can’t get in touch with Keith and Cindy.” My heart sank. But I also realized that just because they hadn’t made contact with us didn’t mean they weren’t okay. Power lines were obviously down and it was probably mayhem. I went about my evening with this information in the forefront of my mind and eventually fell asleep expecting to hear good news from my mother in the morning. During the night, many of the 1,300 residents made there way out. But there were still 27 unaccounted for. And four of them had my last name. My cousin, Keith Moehring, his wife, Cindy, and their two sons, Erik and Ryan, had not contacted us. And we could not contact them. After waiting for eight hours, on May 29, 1997, shortly after midnight our family was brought in to be told that my cousin, his wife and their two teenage sons did not survive. A town devastated. Two entire families wiped out. Men became widowers. Children lost parents. Lives were forever changed. In a matter of minutes. Life is short, my friends. We do not know what the hours in our day hold. So, hug those you adore and tell them you love them. And give your heart to Jesus. He will take good care of it.