We were in the middle of eastern Colorado near the Kansas border when the alarm rang out. My youngest pixie was holding the phone as the alert sounded.
“Tornado warning,” she cried out and erupted in sobs. Her body shook as fear overcame her.
Let me back up three years prior to fill you in on why Zion reacted this way.
A few years ago, when we were visiting family in Pennsylvania, the pixies and I encountered a tornado. We were driving home from my sister-in-laws and knew the weather in the surrounding Amish countryside was tenuous. Alerts were ringing out constantly.
Zion was only seven at the time, so as she watched the wind bending the trees in different directions and the eerie green color settle in, she was terrified.
The weather became so bad, I had to pull over to find shelter immediately. I knew there was a recreation center off to my left. The only problem was I couldn’t see the road ahead to get there. I ended up driving down an embankment through the rain and hail.
We made it inside the center, with miraculous little damage to the truck, but the impact of that event left a lasting impression on Zion. To this day, she hates severe weather. Tornadoes are her worst fear.
So, when she found out we were traveling through Kansas to get to CO, she was not a fan. Yes, she knows the story of The Wizard of Oz.
Isn’t there another way to go? she wondered. Thankfully, the drive to CO was a beautiful, clear day. However, the return proved to be a different story.
Here we were, in the middle of nowhere, and Zion’s worst fears were being realized.
I looked off in the distance and could actually see two twisters. Since the CO/KS border is so flat, the beautiful thing is that you can see the sky for miles. I didn’t let anyone else in the car know what I was seeing, but quietly whispered to Tim, “We need to pull off and find shelter.”
But where?
If you’ve ever driven through this area of the country, you know that it’s in the middle of nowhere. There are no stops or shelters for miles and miles.
Zion was sobbing in the back, and the sky ahead projected menacing black.
And there in the middle of the prairie, an exit appeared.
Typically, my man is all for plowing ahead but even he knew the gravity of the situation, and pulled off. The exit consisted of one gas station and an old Motel. We chose the gas station and piled inside with others escaping the storm.
Tim held Zion as she trembled. Her little body shook uncontrollably as she cried, “I don’t want to be here.”
An older gentleman stood outside smoking his cigarette. Clearly on edge he asked me, “Where are you headed?”
“East,” I replied.
“You don’t want to go there,” he warned. “We just drove through the worst hail storm and rain of my life. My truck is ruined. There’s tornadoes coming this way.”
And so we sat, waiting. Checking the radar, praying the storm would head south.
Meanwhile Zion cried in her daddy’s arms, shaking, while he went and picked up her favorite candy bar from the cashier. There’s nothing like a Twix to get your mind off of the raging storm outside.
That’s a good father.
I thought about our ordeal a lot after. How the Lord graciously provided an exit right when we needed it. We would have driven straight into the eye of the storm if that exit did not appear at the exact moment it did.
Earlier that day, we also left our family in CO thirty minutes later than we had anticipated. Would we have driven through more of the storms if we would’ve left on time?
Our good Heavenly Father had our route mapped out for us ahead of time, providing the exit we needed at the exact moment it was necessary. We could not have timed it better ourselves, even if we had known the storm was coming.
This was a tender moment. One I didn’t want to squander with my youngest child.
Jesus is with us always. He promises to be there until the end of the world. Even in our most terrifying situations, Peace is there. Christ Himself is our Peace.
In her most recent book WayMaker, Ann Voskamp writes,
“Peace is a Person, not a place. Peace isn’t found in a place on a map, or in a place in our imagination or dreams, or in arriving at any place in the cosmos—it’s only found in a deep attachment to the Person of Christ. Peace isn’t found in any present, peaceful circumstances but in the presence of Christ. Peace isn’t getting somewhere but in giving your life to Someone.”
The peace of Christ is continual because He is continual. It flows in the midst of our circumstances day in and day out. It fills all the crevices and outlets of our varying emotions. It lingered in that gas station with our family in the middle of nowhere. Jesus was with us.
God always proves Himself trustworthy even in the midst of our doubts and fears. His track record is faithfulness. Always. Even if...the thing you most fear transpires, the path veers off-course, there is a way with the One who is the Way. He provided Himself as the exit ramp, and because He did, we can have Peace continually.
And there, as our family pulled out of the gas station trying to beat another storm coming up behind us, praying that the tornados ahead would stay south, a majestic rainbow shouted peace across the sky right before our eyes.
I am with you always. I am your Peace.
Such a poignant reminder! Bless you! In our neck of the woods, we use "Shalom" for peace, and oh, what depths it reaches! It is a greeting and a farewell. It's definitions include completeness, wholeness, perfection. Our perfect L-rd is called Sar Shalom, Prince of Peace, who makes us whole! And I, too, have traveled from the mountains of Colorado through the - gotta say it - boring flat lands of Kansas. I have often pondered on how any human made it across that barren land in a covered wagon!😳