We know you. We know your families, how there are three generations close by, with the kids coming home on Sundays, and mama makes a cake and mashed potatoes. Maybe some ribs. We know your low rolling hills of stunning green and your history with the dust bowl. You've known great suffering and great love of the very dirt in your fields; the loss of everything and the ability to hold everything that matters, what faith feels like, what hope looks like, what love acts like.
Tonight, we feel sorrow. Our earth is sending out the message of extremes, and we'd best pay attention. We hold close to our schools, our churches, our baseball games, our farms. The institutions that most make us American. So do you.
You'll be tough. You'll get organized fast. You'll be of help. Your medical people will work around the clock doing the best work of their lives. Your teachers will carry the sacredness of these stories. Your counselors and your pastors will reinstall hope. Your police, your paramedics, and your fire fighters will be heroes a thousand times over.
As you will.
Brew the coffee strong. You'll find the clear light of dawn in a green and generous state.