there's no feeling in the world like thinking you're going to die.

two days ago, i was convinced that i was going to die.
two days ago, i was caught in the most pivotal moment of my young adult life.
two days ago...there was a tornado.

4:09. a number that will forever be etched in my mind. 4:05 and i awake to the startling sound of thunder rattling my oh-so-delicate window...cleverly positioned right above my bed. 4:07 and i hear brinly stirring and alisha sighing. 4:08 and i ask all of my roommates if they're awake. i realize that someone is pounding on the door. 4:58:08 and i know what's happening. before the words even escape from her mouth, i predict her sentiments. 4:09. as i jump out of my bed, i hear "TORNADO! Grab your comforters and GET IN THE BATHROOM! NOW!" i see two girls that don't belong to my apartment, and in my stupor, i stumble, half awake, to the bathtub.

apparently, i was the first one in there, prepared with my comforter. i don't recall being first, i just recall thinking "oh god, who am i supposed to say goodbye to first?" i wanted to call my mom last...hers was the last voice i wanted to hear. i'm thinking about all the things i should have done while i was out in the open that could save our lives once the roof is gone.

so i'm sitting in this bathroom, wondering how else i could be spending the last minutes of my life, regretting the fact that i haven't experienced so many things...i've never been married, never had children, never known what it's like to live in the real world. my 18 years are about to get cut short by a swirling wind that has the power to throw cars across a city.

and it's amusing to watch other people handle their fear. naomi's first instinct when hearing the word "tornado" was to grab her precious worship leader limited edition spruce top taylor guitar with holy spirit dove inlays and put it in the centermost closet in the apartment. her second? to begin prayer and intercession for said guitar. alisha is whining incessantly about wanting to go back to bed. bekah likes to tell scary stories when she is feeling uncomfortable or nervous...i guess it reminds her that it can be worse. rachel is suddenly quiet, and i almost forget she's there. the two people that are randomly selected to seek refuge with agape108 is a girl and her mom, both from california. the mom is in the bathtub and the girl is sitting on the edge right next to her. the girl tries to at least appear calm, but the mom is calling everyone she knows to tell them goodbye, and then proceeding to pray that the Almighty would reveal any hidden sin.

brinly is next to me, and shaking so violently that i am literally bumping the wall. there's water from the tap running down my leg, and i'm rationalizing everything. "the power is flickering? that's a good sign...it means the tornado is skipping over us!" and i'm thinking, oh no, the power is flickering...that's a really bad sign. it means the tornado is headed our direction. "it's good that we have reception, it means the tornado is further away." oh no...i just lost my reception...i'm gonna die! "bye mom, i'll see you tomorrow!" ...if i live to see tomorrow.

i start the grueling process of waking people up at 4:25 in the morning to try and warn them about their impending doom. i call all the guys i can, because apparently, they haven't yet been informed of the tornado. calling people like mad...and nobody answers. much to my dismay, i am caught in a situation of never getting to say goodbye to my friends and dying with roommates and strangers.

and then it happens.

leslie, one of my r.a.'s, comes traipsing into our apartment to tell us that the warning is over and that we can go back to bed. i laugh silently, knowing that we're all up for the day. apparently, all of the pandemonium that ensued in agape 108 was a farce. there was a tornado...only 5 miles away, and high winds that could very well have shattered our windows. but there was no tornado on campus waiting to destroy us like we had so fearfully imagined.

the moral of this story? when your r.a. wakes you up at four in the morning, screaming at the top of her lungs and warning you about your soon coming death....


roll over and go back to bed.