So we've been in our new old house for two weeks now as of today, and we've already spent an afternoon huddled in the bathtub. And before you think this is some twisted bathing ritual, let me assure you it is not.
Last Tuesday afternoon, the little boys were taking naps, and the house was unusually quiet, for our family anyway. It had been cloudy and rainy most of the day.
Well.
The sky began to get dark. Really dark. And the huge trees surrounding our house were bending in unnatural ways. Or so
I thought.
We did not yet have our satellite tv or internet connected, so I called Jay at work to have him check the weather for us. His response?
"Yeah, it's a little stormy here right now."
Well, what with him being in another STATE and all, I politely requested that he check OUR weather and check it NOW!
I hear him click-click-clicking in the background, and then he says...
"Oh, yeah, there's a tornado warning for you guys, blah blah blah..."
I frankly don't remember the rest, but I think I yelled, "I GOTTA GO!"
Like clockwork, the phone went dead, and the power went out. Luckily, Wyatt likes to play with the flashlights, so we had one handy. Meanwhile, the wind is whistling through our not-so-tight house, and things are blowing around the yard.
I ran for the baby who sleeps in our room and sent Ryan after Wyatt and told them all to get in the bathtub. Needless to say, the little ones were not thrilled at being ripped from sound sleep, so I handed the baby the remainder of his bottle to calm him down and then to his big brother to hold. Emily cuddled with Wyatt to settle him down, and we told him we were playing "boat" for a few minutes, and he could hold the flashlight.
Boat? Why didn't you say so? Instant calm. It's the little things, you know.
I prayed for our safety as calmly as I could and instructed everyone to stay put. I then went to keep an eye out since I had no way of knowing when or where the fun might strike. I know I should have stayed in the interior room with them, but I was only a few steps away, mopping up the growing puddle of water that was blowing in our front door. After a few moments, things seemed to calm down a little, but Jay came home anyway. I guess he thought he might find me sitting in the corner, rocking back and forth with my thumb in my mouth or something. Alas, not, but we spent the next five hours in the dark, the house lit by the few candles I had managed to already unpack.
Then this past Sunday, on our thirty minute drive to church, it began to rain. And then rain hard. And then rain so hard you had to really slow down so you could stay on the road. Then the hail began. Thankfully, it was the pea-sized variety that merely stings when it hits, and not the baseball-sized stuff that can crack your coconut. Or your windshield.
Later that afternoon, because I am who I am, I began to think about that country song and changed the words to suit me. I can do that, right?
When you're goin' through hail,
Keep on movin'- Don't slow down
If you're scared, don't show it
You might get out before your windshield gets a big ole crack.
Yeah, I know.
But we were in fact going through hail.
Then I began to think about our family and friends all over the country, who whenever they hear that we might be relocating, fall promptly to their knees and utter these kinds of prayers in their prayer closets...
Dearest Gawd in Heaven,
If you are really up there,
And I believe you are.
And if you can really hear me,
And I know you can.
Please have mercy on us.
We have heard that they might be moving.
And you know they draw weather calamity unto themselves like lightning to water.
And sometimes unseasonal catastrophe doth stick to them like toilet paper to my shoe.
Please, oh puhleez, dear Gawd,
Leadest thou them not nearest me and mine.
But bless 'em Lord.
Right where they are.
Amen.
For picking up your prayer life? You are welcome.
*Edited to add: No, we are not currently relocating, but in fact, have just relocated. So everyone relax. Except the nice folks in Mississippi.
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