Our phones are popping at the same time: “Take cover immediately . . . .”
Outside, the wind gusts; objects are striking the building, the windows.
We quickly gather the children who’ve come for Vacation Bible School – there’s about seventy of us in all – and they get down on the floor, balling up with their heads against the painted cinderblocks of the main hallway.
The wind is roaring now. The electricity goes out. The emergency lighting flashes on, bright as spotlights, adding a stark, garish quality to faces and bodies. The fire alarm goes off, a deafening blare, as it’s right above us. A boy with hearing aids rips them out of his ears.
The children are still, silent, as heavy objects strike windows in classrooms – will the windows shatter? For a split second I am tempted to look out and see if Miss Gulch is riding through the air on her bicycle just as she morphs into the Wicked Witch of the West.
Instead I kneel over several children as a shield, leaning my head against the cool concrete wall.
These walls are solid, I think. Safe.
But just around the corner in the fellowship hall is a hutch with a large, framed photo of the church when it was nearly flattened by a tornado twenty years ago.
Minutes are eternal when destruction is banging on the door.
If we die, I think, at least we are in church.
My husband, the pastor, prays aloud.
The wind soon abates, dies away.
We go outside to find long strips of vinyl from someone’s home strewn in the parking lot. Big pieces of plywood from who knows where are lying against the building. Shingles are scattered about like fall leaves. The trashcans are way across the graveyard – we trek over to fetch them and we see the gap in the woods where the tornado came through. It cut a path through the cemetery, knocking down a line of gravestones. Silk and plastic flowers, little angel statues and other loose memorials left by families for their loved ones are blown everywhere.
The children retrieve and replace them.
Parents begin arriving, alarmed. Others in the community come to see if everything’s okay.
Just as we are leaving, I turn back toward the church – “Look!”
Arcing up from the woods across the street to the woods behind the cemetery, in the sky directly above the church, a rainbow gleams.
All is well.
lit bits and pieces 
This sounds SCARY! I’m glad you are all ok!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It was scary, especially knowing that the church took a direct hit years before (at night when no one was there, thankfully). It only lasted for a few minutes that seemed like forever. Thank you!
LikeLike
I’ve never been close enough to a tornado to see the destruction from my front door. Your description was fascinating and scary! Glad for the “happy” ending.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, and it really was a heart-stopping bit of time, waiting for it to pass. And this was only a little tornado. I cannot imagine the intensity of an F3 or greater – utterly terrifying. The rainbow afterward was breathtaking – the picture doesn’t do justice.
LikeLiked by 1 person
“Minutes are eternal when destruction is banging at the door.”
What a line! Wow!
Glad everyone is okay.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you – that line came into my head right at that point in the writing and I grabbed it as fast as I could – I am glad you enjoyed!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You managed to stretch the time in your piece so that we were waiting too with bated breath. The contrast of the ragged uncertainty and the cool solidity of the concrete blocks was striking.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much for this concrete feedback (no pun intended, honest!). I am grateful for your letting me know how the piece affected you.
LikeLike
Your writing is so clear. I feel like I was there, seeing and feeling it all. Then the peaceful ending! I also liked the stanza where you have the connection to the Wizard of Oz, really my only other clear image of a tornado.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Sally – it was impossible not to think of The Wizard of Oz, even if it was rather irrational at the moment. Still, with things flying by the window … your mind goes racing. Thanks for letting me know that you felt like you were living it with me. 🙂
LikeLike
A very powerful post! I can’t imagine being a cool and collected as you were. We don’t really experience tornadoes too often in southeastern PA.
ritadicarne.com
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you and while I tend, generally, to be on the calm side, I think the children kept me more so. Things needed to be as calm as possible for them. There was hardly time to think! Be ever so grateful for your lack of tornadoes – I don’t think I’d make it in a place like Tornado Alley!
LikeLike
Wow! There’s nothing more terrifying than being in a situation like that with others in your care. So glad it passed on by and left something beautiful behind amidst the damage.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, it ended up being such an inspiring moment, one of great peace and stillness, as well as awe, over the rainbow and the power of the tornado, too – once it had passed! Thank you~
LikeLike
Wow! That got my heart rate going! What a way to create that stretch of time within your words! Thank you for sharing both the fear AND the sigh of relief! And thank goodness the Wicked Witch passed you by! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Darin – sorry about the heart rate but I do appreciate your reading and responding! It was over quickly but didn’t seem so at the time. Cleaning up the debris took a while.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Such a beautiful post! I especially loved the line “Minutes are eternal when destruction is banging on the door.” You really paint a picture with your words.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much, Sonja! That line came from out of the blue, fully formed – I wrote it before it could get away. I am glad to know it resonated with you.
LikeLike
Tornadoes are one of my biggest fears, yet a desire also. Although I am scared of them, I would love to see one in a distance that causes no damage, of course! Living in Indiana, the outer boundary of tornado alley, doesn’t help either! So glad all of you were safe and what a source of comfort that rainbow brought to all of you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I understand this, actually – there’s a wondrous aspect in spite of the terribleness, regarding tornadoes. The rainbow was immensely comforting and felt like closure to the event. Thank you~
LikeLike