Nahum 1:7 – “The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; he knows those who take refuge in him.”

As I turned northward onto Peterson Road on Wynne, Arkansas’ eastside, I encountered a scene out of an apocalyptic war film. To the right, three homes had been completely wiped off a ridge by an EF-3 tornado that ripped through the town on March 31^st. All that remained were driveways rising to concrete foundations. The still visible homes to the left were in shambles—barely standing among massive piles of debris. Windows were blown out. Construction material was strewn about and lodged in tree limbs as high as 40 feet. In every direction, there were gnarled tree limbs, crushed belongings, and shattered lives.

My mission that morning was to find someone to help. The organization I work with—the Churches of Christ Disaster Response Team—has volunteers from across the country, a semi-truck full of every tool imaginable, along with household supplies, construction material, and food. In a town so devastated by a natural disaster, finding someone to help would seem to be an easy task. The reality is that uninhabitable homes are vacant, and the owners of many salvageable homes are waiting on insurance claims to process before rebuilding can begin. 

As I was about to give up on finding a customer along this desolate, marred landscape, I spotted an older woman pushing a wheelbarrow full of debris across her front yard. The roof of her house was blown off and a large pile of debris rested in her front yard. Where there is manual labor underway, there is opportunity. I pulled into her driveway, approached her, and explained my purpose. The woman, Miss Kay, didn’t hesitate to respond.

“I appreciate your offer, but surely there are people in worse shape than us. We have been blessed.”

If that was her attempt to get me to leave, it didn’t work. People who think they are unworthy draw me in like a magnet. All the better that she was pushing a wheelbarrow to try to improve her situation. The Bible verse on the front of her t-shirt wasn’t required for her to receive help but added another dimension.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry this happened to you. We’re going to have some people here tomorrow morning to help you move that pile, cut down those tree limbs, and help you with anything else you need. May I ask if you were at home when the tornado hit?”

“We were. This was our new home—we’d only been in it a few months. My husband and I were inside along with one of our grandsons and his precious girlfriend. We huddled in a small coat closet and prayed out loud.”

“The tornado hit in the afternoon?”

“Yes, around 4 p.m. It came right over that ridge. Some of our neighbors lost everything. They always say a tornado sounds like a freight train and that’s what we heard. We thought this was the end for us—that it was time to join our girls.”

Miss Kay elaborated on her feelings in a Facebook post: “In the middle of all the horrible destruction we had peace. We all knew our Redeemer lives! We feel so blessed. Yes, we lost a lot but what we lost is all earthly and as we call it ‘just stuff’ and sometimes that’s what weighs us down, so we aren’t grieving the loss of our home. We are praising the Lord who sheltered us in that horrible storm. So now we should be homeless, but we have had so many people offer us shelter that our words of gratitude can’t cover what we feel for them… Yes, we are blessed much more than we deserve… There aren’t enough words to express what we feel in our hearts. Thank you is too small.”

I asked Miss Kay about joining her girls—what she meant by that. She removed her gloves and wiped sweat from her brow.

“We lived in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, back in 1991. Emily, our youngest, was 16 at the time and our oldest, Amy, was 18. I heard a sermon one Sunday in which our preacher encouraged us to talk to our kids about faith. He said not to assume that faith is real or personal to our kids just because they go to church and are ‘good kids.’ You’ve got to talk to them.”

“So, you talked to your girls?”

“Yes, I called for a little mother-daughter conference. We climbed up on my bed for a heart to heart. Emily did most of the talking. She assured me, as did her sister, that her faith was real and genuine. She wasn’t pretending.”

Miss Kay took a deep breath and sat her work gloves down on the pile of debris in the wheelbarrow.

“The next day, Emily died in a car accident.”

“I’m so sorry, Miss Kay.”

“She was a Junior at Riverdale High School. The person she normally drove home with wasn’t available that day, so she got a ride with someone else. The driver went just a little on the shoulder of the road and then over-corrected. The driver survived but Emily did not. It was a tragedy, but I’m so thankful to God for that conversation we had the night before. Those were the last meaningful words we shared together. That was a blessing. That brought me peace.”

“I’m sure it did.”

“Steve, do you have a moment? I want to show you something out on the back porch.”

“Sure.”

We walked through her front door and past broken glass, exposed ceiling, and the closet where the family had hunkered down when the tornado came through. On the back porch, she called my attention to her grill.

“Are you familiar with the Big Green Egg?”

“Yes, ma’am, my dad used to have one of those.”

“Well, when the storm hit, Phil and I had three things on this back porch: the Big Green Egg, some wicker furniture, and my daughter Amy’s swing.”

Miss Kay took another deep breath and continued.

“This is where God was at work again. Amy had some heart problems—something that runs in our family. Several years ago, prior to moving with her family, she asked if I could hold on to her swing for her. This was our family swing—a place where we would gather to talk about life and faith and watch fireflies at night. Her new home didn’t have a place for it, so I agreed to take it and put it on our back porch here in Wynne. Well, back in December of 2020, in the middle of Covid, my sweet Amy got really sick and died suddenly of a heart attack. She was 47 and left behind a beautiful family.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. Your family has been through so much.”

“We have, but God has carried us through all of it.”

“So, where does the Big Green Egg fit into all of this?”

“Good question. So, we had the Egg, Amy’s swing, and some wicker furniture on the porch. After the tornado, we found the Egg a quarter mile away in a neighbor’s yard. We still haven’t found the wicker furniture. But Amy’s swing was left unharmed, right where it sat.”

“That’s amazing!”

“Yes, and it wasn’t bolted down or anything. Aside from memories and her family, it’s really the only thing I have left from Amy. I think God spared it for us—to remind us of her.”

“So, with the tornado barreling down on you guys, you thought you’d be joining Amy and Emily that afternoon.”

“We did, and that would have been okay—a blessing, really. We miss them so much. And someday we’ll join them. But God must still have plans for us.”

“Some more family time on Amy’s swing.”

“Yes, I think so. Our God is bigger than any storm. We’re just going to put our trust in Him and keep on keeping on.”

Sometimes disaster relief is about more than just handing out food and cutting up trees. Sometimes the conversations run deep.

So, as you talk to your kids about faith… on a pew, atop a bed, or perhaps on the family porch swing, remind them of this: The tornado that hit Wynne, Arkansas, on March 31^st, 2023, was big and was devastating.

But also remind them of this: “The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; he knows those who take refuge in him.” 

Our God is bigger than any storm.