“As I looked,
thrones were placed,
and the Ancient of Days took his seat;
his clothing was white as snow,
and the hair of his head like pure wool;
his throne was fiery flames;
its wheels were burning fire.”
This past week was a flurry of activity as we helped prepare for my brother and his fiancé’s wedding. V was an organized bride with a clear vision of what she wanted so it was a fun event to be a part of.
There’s my family. All 457,694,793,474 of us.
The reception went off beautifully. A celebration with good food, an excellent and witty toast by my little brother, songs, tears, love, blessings. We were and are, so happy for the newlyweds.
Towards the end of the reception, a light rain had grown to a heavy downpour and could be heard pounding on the roof above us. The wind had picked up as well and I said to David, “I think we should go over and close those doors.” The barn had these giant doors that were propped open throughout the evening. I had started to make my way towards the doors when David said, “Honey, no. Just stay here. Don’t worry about the doors.”
Looking back, the timeline blurs, but suddenly the wind really started blowing and one of the barn doors swung shut and then open again with a loud BANG! There were a few seconds of silence and then a lady’s frightened scream. And then bedlam. It sounded like a freight train was bearing down on us. People were running all over the place trying to determine the safest place to hide away. I was close to the bridal table when a window in the ceiling caved to the pressure and glass came flying through the air. I remember dropping my phone and thinking, “Who cares?” (there’s no app for the end of the world) I was getting underneath the bridal table when I heard my dear husband yelling my name. Vigorously.
If you look at the photos above of the barn, you will see these ladders/posts that run from the floor to the ceiling. He was standing next to one of those and calling me over to join him. I put one foot in front of the other, like a slow motion escape from the rabid dogs in my childhood nightmares. I reached his side, we fell to our knees, hugging the sturdy posts. At some point I became aware of the fact that I was hugging a stranger who was also clinging to the post. The stranger and I were both praying. “Dear Jesus, calm the storm. Dear Jesus, be with us. Protect us. Dear Jesus. Jesus.” The wind whipped and howled and the roof rattled and then, as suddenly as it had come, it was over.
People got off their knees, reunited with their lost spouses and children. Hugged each other. “Are you okay? Where were you? Who was with you?” I unwrapped my arms from around the stranger and as she turned to look at me I said, “Nice to meet you.” She smiled. “It seems like we were both thinking the same thing.”
The next day we drove around the neighborhood around my mom’s house and surveyed the damage. It was an incredible sight to see, to try to wrap your mind around the power it must have taken to cause that much destruction. I know that what Lancaster County suffered was nothing compared to the storms that other areas have suffered in the past. Nevertheless, it was certainly the strongest storm many of us have ever experienced.
Saturday evening we were having a ladies’ night out at a bistro in Honeybrook when we got the news that a young mother had passed away mysteriously in her sleep. She was a sister to one of my brother’s groomsmen and someone with whom I occasionally hung out before getting married. Ruth. Thirty one years old. My age. Mother of three. I can’t imagine what her family must be going through. What can ever prepare you for losing a sister? A daughter? A wife?
“A voice says, “Cry!”
And I said, “What shall I cry?”
All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field.
The grass withers, the flower fades
when the breath of The Lord blows on it;
surely the people are grass.”
I walk around as if I hold the keys to life and death, as if I can count on my next breath. My next day, or week or year. But in truth, each and every moment I am being held up by the mercies of God. Each moment of life, a gift from the Father. And that can bring fear to my human heart. A few weeks ago I answered a question in my Q&A book. Where do you think your road is going? And the answer had come to me so clearly. Towards redemption. And Ruth is just a little further down that road than the rest of us. There is a reason to fear God. He is powerful and just and holy. And there is a reason to trust God. He is faithful and true and not willing that any should perish. If you have claimed the blood of his Son Jesus as a sacrifice for your sin, repented, and turned from your sin, then you are his.