Fifty-eight years separate the late afternoon that an F-5 tornado leveled much of downtown Waco and killed 114 people and the tornado that devastated Joplin, Mo., last Sunday, flattening entire neighborhoods as if they were built of matchsticks and leaving a death toll that now exceeds 140. Yet if the great passage of time has taught us in Waco anything that we can now offer to numbed, grief-stricken and overwhelmed residents of Joplin and elsewhere, it’s this: Your best days may well be ahead.

That idea might seem ludicrous, even disrespectful. Even now, a week after the Joplin tornado — that’s what folks will call it in the years to come — confusion reigns, death is everywhere and state and national leaders at times seem in a state of bewilderment more than command, especially in the wake of a storm system that three weeks earlier left more than 300 dead throughout the South.

What we read in the news leaves us devastated — the principal who learned that his high school had been destroyed shortly after presiding over its graduation ceremonies; the 54-year-old woman who died of a heart attack after learning of her father’s death in the storm; the nursing home staff that sought to rush the aged and the infirm to a place of safety, only for the tornado to strike sooner than any expected, killing both seniors and a staff member.

These stories and others surfacing amid the ruins touch our hearts and make us realize the fragility of life and the ease with which home, hearth and cherished possessions can be dashed to the four winds, especially when confronted with the power of this planet’s environment at its most volatile. These stories make us ponder our own chances against such outbursts of nature and the odds of such a disaster one day coming our way.

But if our long-ago experiences in Waco illustrate any useful points, those who survived Sunday’s tornado, and those deadly tornadoes before and since, will also be witness to the best of mankind — not just the rescue teams dispatched to seek out survivors in the rubble; not just agencies such as the American Red Cross set up to provide relief to those who suddenly and terribly have nothing; not just government agencies, state and federal, offering assistance in their own sometimes confounding ways; but the simple, reassuring acts of goodwill and charity undertaken by everyday people. They’re the kind of folks who have always characterized our nation, good times and bad, generation after generation. They are the foundation for rebuilding, renewal and resolve. And this help will come from places Joplin residents have never given a thought to — places such as Waco.

The so-called “Waco tornado” of May 11, 1953, no longer figures among the top 10 deadliest tornadoes in our nation’s history. Last week it slipped to the No. 11 spot because of the tornado that slammed into Joplin.

But the example of neighbor helping neighbor, citizen helping citizen, where differences melt away and a greater calling strengthens us and bolsters our confidence in this world, is what the people of Joplin and other storm-ravaged cities will some day remember when they recall the day a killer tornado came their way. And humanity, in its most divine, enlightening and enduring form, is what will instill town pride and invigorate spirits only temporarily laid low.