Shelter in Place

Tornadoes rage in the southeast; where do you seek safety?

It’s Father’s Day 2023, and I’m home sick with a toddler who is no longer sick. This means that despite my body aches and sinus congestion, I need to entertain her. My husband is at church, serving on the tech team, making sure the microphones and cameras work seamlessly. 

We are watching Moana underneath a pile of blankets and tissues when I hear the weather radio siren go off. The southeast has been under severe weather threat for basically the last five days straight. Ever since a tornado hit our house last year, I take weather threats seriously and turn the radio on at even the smallest concern of severe weather. Slightly confused, as the sky outside is overcast but not ominous, I pull up the radar on my phone. 

The radar looks terrible. We are under a severe thunderstorm warning, which happens at a somewhat regular interval in the Florida panhandle. But this time we are also just along the border of a tornado warning, literally a few streets over from the edge of it. A little too close for comfort, I go through the motions of gathering what we need to shelter in place in the safest room of the house: my walk-in closet. It beats the bathroom from the house we lived in last year, and I can only hope that if the military ever sends us somewhere truly in Tornado Alley, that the house has a proper basement or storm shelter. 

My body aches and my nose runs as I quickly grab shoes, the dog’s leash and dog bed, water bottles, snacks, my tablet, and a bucket of toys. The closet is already stocked with helmets and a severe weather kit. I grab some pillows along the way, and usher my two-year-old daughter and eleven-year-old Maltese dog into the closet, weather radio in hand. 

I put on my helmet, then bribe Hannah to wear hers by telling her she can only watch Daniel Tiger on my tablet if she wears her helmet the entire time. She happily obliges, munching on some goldfish while she watches her show. I call my husband, who informs me the church is releasing early in light of the approaching storm. He reassures me he’ll pull over and shelter somewhere if he can’t make it to our house in time. 

I can hear the storms start to roll in as thunder shakes the house. The radar is violent and Rosie, our dog, begins to tremble. I watch the weather news which confirms the radar: 80mph gusts, torrential rain, hail, and tornadic activity are bearing down along the coast, ripping through the place we call home.

All I can do is pray. 

My husband calls again; the sky is turning green and he’s decided to go shelter on base, which is about halfway home from the church. I know it’s serious when my pilot, weather-calm husband decides to shelter in place. He knows weather better than most, as he is constantly aware of weather changes and patterns due to taking to the skies frequently in his military aircraft. His weather-calm self balances my weather-franticness, so when he shows concern, I know it’s going to be intense.

All I can do is pray. 

I pray as the wind howls and the rain smacks against the house. In a closet with no windows, I can only imagine what it looks like outside.  I pray for protection and for safety; I pray for my husband and my community, and for the storm to be over soon.

photo from Canva.

I have seen what the power of a storm can do. When a tornado ripped through our Alabama town last year, I saw the swath of trees uprooted, the windows blown out of the movie theater, and the fence and roof damage our house took on. 

I have also seen what the power of prayer can do. Despite the tornado damage last year, we were safe and could live in our house while the repairs were made. As more severe storms rolled in through tornado season, I saw storms on the radar literally split in two and go around our house, as we prayed for the storm to spare us while we sheltered in place in the little bathroom at 2am, wearing helmets and cradling our baby. And even when the storm didn’t split and it raged down on us, I have felt peace come upon me, knowing that if the Lord doesn’t remove the storm, He is still with me in it. 

Which is more powerful: the storm being removed from your life, or being given the strength to withstand the storm?

Which scenario grows you more?

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I often declare—on an increasingly frequent basis—that once we are out of the military, we will never live in a place that has set seasons for tornadoes and hurricanes. I don’t desire to live in a place forever with the regular threat of life-changing storms. 

I know I can’t control the weather, but I can control where I live. When we get the choice of where we live again, we plan to choose somewhere with a more predictable weather pattern. Even if it means snow. I’ll take snow any day over tornado warnings.

I cannot control—or predict—the proverbial storms that will come upon my life. Some I can see coming, brewing off in the distance. The warnings are there, but in my selfish pride, I don’t always heed those warnings. Sometimes the storms appear overhead without any notice, completely turning my life upside down in the matter of a moment. 

But I can control where I stand in those storms, and which direction I choose to face when the rain comes. 

I choose to stand in faith, eyes lifted to the One who is in control. I choose to pray and ask for help, even if the help I receive isn’t what I imagined it would look like. 

I rejoice when the storm splits and I’m spared from destruction; I lean into faith when the storm barrels through, knowing there are lessons I need to learn within the storm. 

It all comes down to this: where do you shelter in place?

When the storms rage and your earth shakes, where are you seeking safety? Within the Lord or within the world? Do we cry out to the Lord for help, or do we google a solution instead? Do we keep trying to do it all on our own, in our own way, or do we seek God for wisdom or ask for help from others? 

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A massive clap of thunder makes me jump, but the storm slowly wanes, racing to the east of us. The warnings end, and we are given the all clear. 

I remove our helmets, grateful they were cautionary this time and not necessary. Prayers of praise are said. Never forget to thank the Lord for His provision. 

Our house stood through yet another storm.

And so did we.