Uncle Joe saw the plume of smoke going way up and glanced at his watch: 7:50 pm, yesterday evening. The smoke billowed a mile or more into the sky. Then, bright orange, like the sun bursting out of the clouds, a fireball ignited, flames leaping higher and higher, through and beyond the smoke. A real quick shotgun blast hit his ears. Seconds later, a rush of wind, like a person pushing him back, swept past and by.

Joe knew something had blown up, about eight miles away, near the town of West, Texas. He knew the vicinity. Maybe it was highway construction, hitting a natural gas line, or something else?

Grabbing his cell phone, Uncle Joe called his brother who lived maybe two miles from the cloud. They were okay. A nephew called from south of Waco, about 50 miles away. They’d heard the sound and were watching the Internet news. The fertilizer plant in West was a ruin, completely demolished, and it was still burning. Nearby houses were flattened, apartments smashed, windows blown out of homes and cars for miles around. Another nephew had been at a nearby church. He was alright – his mother called. She’d gotten him out and taken him home. She was heading to her job at the hospital in Waco to help with the injured, 100, maybe 200, maybe more. Some were gone. Nobody knew how many. When the explosion occurred, volunteer fire brigade members with plant workers had been fighting a fire at the plant. They were too close. Emergency vehicles and ambulances were everywhere. The freeway was shut-down. The east side of town was being evacuated. Winds were up, blowing the fumes away. That was good. Folks to the north were being told to stay inside. The winds were strong. That was good.

The town of West is 80 miles south of Dallas. It is the home of Westfest, the annual Labor Day festival, the first weekend in September, that celebrates the city’s Czech heritage. Kolaches are plentiful. For longer than I can remember, the West bakeries have been the kolache rest stop for hungry travelers on Interstate 35 between Dallas and Austin. West itself is a small town of some 2,600 hard-working folks, out from the big cities, near the productive farmlands. The mayor, a volunteer firefighter himself, was rushing to the plant to help when the shock wave hit his car, broke the side-view mirror and blew his helmet off. On the TV, my wife recognized the Mayor and knew his name before it was announced. He looked tired and he told us what he knew. Then, he asked for prayer.

I just called Uncle Joe. He told me the rains started at about 6:45 am this morning. It was raining still, a soft rain. Skies would be clearing, the sun coming out about 10 am.

He hadn’t slept much – worried. He knew all those people. He hadn’t slept well. He was waiting to hear more.

Uncle Joe and Mary, his sister, my wife, have over 100 relatives near and around West. So far, everyone is safe. Mary went to work in the rain this morning, a few tears drying in her eyes. She did not sleep well.

We are thankful for our blessings, and we, with the Mayor, are praying for the injured, the homeless and those we will not see again.

Please say a prayer for everyone, the individuals, the families and the caregivers who have so tirelessly come to the aid of their friends and dear ones. In this small town, there are many needs this day.

Thank you and God Bless,

Grandpa Jim