I was as excited as a nine-year-old could be. Gloria, my favorite babysitter, was caring for me while my mother served as a counselor at church camp. We were cooking supper because Gloria’s husband David would soon be home from work. Michael was sleeping in his crib. Suddenly a strong wind and torrential rain hit.
Gloria said, “We don’t have the trailer tied down yet.” As she finished that sentence, the mobile home shook.
I saw the hot stove and a mirror tumble past me as the mobile home rolled and rolled.
I tried to yell for help, but couldn’t. Debris filled my mouth with sandy dirt. As I was spitting the mud from my mouth, I saw David and Gloria pulling furniture out of the way and forming a tunnel through which I could crawl.
Torrential rains continued, and lightning flashed.
The three of us, with Gloria carrying six-month-old Michael, ran to the deepest part of the ditch in front of the house as that was the only shelter we had to protect us from a possible second assault.
We had been sitting in the ditch only a few minutes when Daddy showed up. He jumped out of the car and ran to me. “Thank God you were not hurt by that tornado.” Then he looked at the others and saw the blood on David’s foot. “Let’s get all of you checked out at the hospital,” were his next words.
The remains of our barn the tornado hit before it attacked the mobile home where I was staying
The mobile home had rolled over David as he was trying to move us to safety. Miraculously, he only suffered a gash requiring twelve stitches. Other than that, bruises and minor cuts were our only injuries.
The next day I stood in awe as I looked over the flattened mobile home to the barnyard beyond. God had worked a miracle. We were alive.
Even as a young child I realized that God had spared my life because he had a purpose for me. In Jeremiah 29:11, God said, “I know the plans I have for you.”