When we were a young married couple with two children, our vacations always included some adventurous place which would take us as far away from home as possible without breaking the bank. Usually that meant some campground in the Northwoods of Minnesota. As I’ve written before, I’m a city girl, born and bred. I had never pitched a tent in my life, much less cook over an open fire. My husband was the outdoorsman. There was always great adventure waiting for our two oldest children when they heard the words, “Let’s go camping.” I, on the other hand, preferred sunbathing to wood ticks.

When our third child was born, I finally had an advocate. She and I would much rather go shopping than roughing it in the woods. We often did just that while the others ventured into the wilderness in search of the evasive snipe or eatable mushrooms. At night, after dishes were done, we’d sit around the campfire and tells stories or sing camp songs. There were marshmallows to toast and s’mores to be made. It was always early to bed and early to rise during those camping trips. I must mention the sleeping bags which caused me great stress since I’m claustrophobic.

It wasn’t long before rain began to fall gently upon our little tent.  Within seconds torrents ripped through the campsite and the wind had fiercely tossed our tent about – with us in it.

My husband scurried outside the tent trying to secure it to a tree so we wouldn’t be gone with the wind. Did I mention he was clothed only in his underwear.  I stayed inside and tried to help keep the tent upright by pushing on the walls.  Not a good idea.  Water began to drip down my arms and into my armpits. This was not the first or last time, but my life passed quickly before my eyes as I pictured myself and my family being far away from Kansas or Minnesota for that matter.  There was an abundance of prayers as the storm raged around us.

The children slept through the entire event. We, on the other hand were soaking wet and completely exhausted.  The next day as we spent the morning at the Laundromat drying our clothes and sleeping bags, we heard that a tornado had touched down in our campground the night before.  And there we were in the midst of it.

Since that vacation, I much prefer staying at a Holiday Inn, but it did prove one thing to me. If my kids could sleep through a tornado in a tent under the stars, they were ready for anything.  It also showed me that God was there to protect us even in the storm.  It wouldn’t be the last time or the last storm.

  “Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble, and he brought them out of their distress. He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed. They were glad when it grew calm, and he guided them to their desired haven. Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for mankind.”                   Psalm 107:28-31