It was a gorgeous early summer day about four years ago. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and I was cutting the grass, something I do only when I want to, since I have teenage boys. And at the appointed time, I climbed off the mower, got in Brian’s new truck, and headed down the interstate to pick him up at the airport, a forty minute drive.
I had the music cranked, a new Jason Upton CD, and had driven about twenty miles when I suddenly noticed the sun had disappeared and in fact the sky had gone to black. It seemed to happen instantly. Huge fat drops of rain pelted the windshield, and then my cell phone rang. I reached to turn down the music, and as I did, cars in front of me began to hit their brakes. The rain came in torrents, and I struggled to answer the phone and slow the vehicle at the same time.
It was my friend Linda. "Where are you?!" she yelled. She is always excitable, but it was good she yelled over the deafening roar of the rain. I told her I was on the way to the airport. "Yeah, but where ARE you??!!!" I told her I thought I was near Dearborn, and started to tell her I couldn’t chat right then. It had also started to hail and I was steering my car under an overpass, thinking of how new it was, and how I really didn’t want to be the one to dent it all up. But there were already several cars under the bridge, and parked right in the middle of the road. I was able to get my nose under, but that was about it.
And Linda was screaming, "That’s where the tornado is! I’ve got the TV on at home!" I really wasn’t worried about anything but the paint on that car. But I did look up and realize that the western sky was as black as night. I said to her, "Well, what am I supposed to do?"
She yelled, "Take cover! Take cover! You’re supposed to take cover!" I looked around me and saw people all over the road, running to get under the bridge. Cars were lined up behind me, and emptying out. I didn’t want to be the idiot who didn’t take this seriously, so I reluctantly got out of my car and joined them. We had to step over a guardrail, and a small stream of water. A little girl was crying, and being urged by her dad to leap over the water and climb the dirt and rock hill—it wasn’t one of those nice concrete underpasses. I knew my fabric sandals were history.
I joined the mass of people huddled at the top. The noise of the storm—the rain and the wind, was so loud. Oh the humanity! But were we united together, attempting to comfort and encourage and help one another? No, I think just about everyone under that bridge had a cell phone stuck to their ear, probably unable to hear the impassioned last goodbyes of their loved ones. That was a strange moment, thinking how we were so isolated while being together—cell phones may be one of the worst inventions ever when it’s all said and done.
And then, probably less than two minutes later, it was all over. The rain and wind instantly stopped. I looked around a minute, seeing nothing but the concrete under the bridge, and then decided I needed to step out into the real world and survey the damage.
I think I was the first to leave the confines of our safehouse, and found there was no damage to see. I looked east, and the sky was blue and cheery. I looked west, and the black cloud was being swept away. But underneath stretched a long black line from high in the sky all the way to the ground. It looked like a black thread being dangled from the sky, and it was dancing around just like I’d seen in pictures, back and forth, in a teasing sort of way. I thought, "By golly, it’s a tornado. My first ever. Won’t Brian be jealous? All his life he’s wanted to see a tornado." I watched it for several minutes, dancing back and forth, back and forth. It was probably a quarter of a mile away from me.
I was startled from my fascination when I heard the blast of an airhorn right below me. Some guy in a semi wanted me to move the car! I glanced around, and everyone was gone. So I hurried down the hill, jumped in the truck, and took off. In five minutes, I was driving on dry pavement, with no sign of any storm. The day was just as beautiful as it had been when I had left home.
I glanced at my watch. As thrilling as it had been, the day’s diversion really hadn’t taken much time. I still had time to stick to my original plan and return something at a store near the airport. I really wanted to do it, because they had a 30-day return policy, and I wasn’t planning on being back in the area anytime soon. But I now had muddy feet. I decided not to let that stop me, and when I arrived at the parking lot in the city, I found a puddle to rinse my feet and shoes off in, and went inside.
I was still terribly excited, and wanted to tell somebody about my adventure. When it was my turn to let the girl ring up my return, I told her, "Guess what? I just saw a tornado!" She looked at me, said "uh-huh," and went right back to the task at hand. Guess she wasn’t too impressed, or thought I was just a nutcase.
When I had called my boys to check on them at home, I found they had gone in from the yard work and were safe in the basement playing video games. When I told them my adventure story, Aaron, the 16-year old, said, "Mom! Don’t you know that’s the most dangerous place you can go in a tornado??" And sure enough, that evening on the TV, I saw a report with footage of people being blown out from under an overpass. Oops. I had just been a silly ignoramus, just following the crowd, like sheep to the slaughter. There’s a great spiritual lesson there—just because everybody’s doing it, doesn’t make it right. Now I know, and I won’t make the same mistake twice. And yes, my husband is jealous, because I’ve seen a tornado and he hasn’t.