karina

The morning of May 22, 2011, Karina woke up feeling… off. She couldn’t explain it — just a weight in her chest and a quiet voice in the back of her mind telling her not to go to work. She didn’t know why, but the feeling stuck with her. Still, like most of us would, she shook it off and headed to her shift at Freddy’s in Joplin.

Everything felt normal at first. The usual crowd, the usual routine. But after a couple of hours, the sky started to change. The wind picked up. The air went still. And that uneasy feeling? It came rushing back.

When she asked to leave, her manager told her she couldn’t. But Karina pushed — something in her just knew she had to go. She finally got the okay, but the moment she stepped outside, her hat flew off her head and smacked against the door. That’s when her manager opened it and told her to get back inside. It was already too dangerous. They all rushed to take cover in the bathroom.

Karina remembers the sound of the tornado — loud, violent… like a train tearing through everything. All she could think was: just make it out alive.

When it was over, and she stepped outside, the world had changed. Her city didn’t look like her city anymore. Buildings were gone. Streets were unrecognizable. And the five-block walk to meet her stepmom felt like a lifetime. She passed destroyed homes, flipped cars, and the sounds of people crying out, searching for loved ones.

Later, she found out that her kids’ grandmother had died that day. She had gone out to get pizza — just one simple, everyday thing — and the tornado crossed right into her path. It took over a week before they found her.

Karina didn’t talk about that day for years. She buried the pain deep, trying to move on. But now, as a mom herself, everything feels different. She’s learning to face the trauma, not just for her own healing — but for her children. “My babies mean everything to me,” she says. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”

Karina’s story is one of instinct, survival, and love. It’s a reminder to trust your gut, to protect what matters most.