The day before the Moore, Okla., tornado, we sat huddled in the basement, rain and hail beating on the house we had just moved into 24 hours before. Tornado sirens screamed their terrifying warning into the thick, wet afternoon air while my husband read the Psalms aloud.
Normally a person who loves a good storm, I found myself more scared than usual with this one. Part of it was that it caught us off guard, in the middle of a move — we couldn’t find our shoes or a single flashlight before diving for shelter.
But I thought as I sat praying quietly holding onto the dog with one hand and various sweaty children with the other, this time was different. Instead of standing on the driveway scouting for funnels, I was sporting my own set of sweaty hands.
[Read the rest of the article at WorldMag.com.]