One sunny afternoon when our Christian Science Reading Room wasn’t scheduled to be open, I felt impelled to open it to support a local family, who are members of our church and whose mother had just passed on. This woman had healed others through her practice of Christian Science and had been a dedicated Reading Room librarian for many years. Opening the Reading Room to the public helped me feel like I was honoring my friend’s work.

As I was praying in the Reading Room for myself and my church family to overcome any sense of loss or grief, it was apparent that a storm was gathering outside. Tornado warning sirens were sounding, but the sun was still shining. I continued my work. The sirens also continued. As it darkened outside, I began to expand my prayers to the community. I remember acknowledging that this community could not be oppressed by any sense of death (this woman was a public figure in the community) or inharmony, of loss or of confusion. And that Christian Science was a light, a beacon, a sword of Truth, unassailable by any attack of erroneous theories, “isms,” or practices. Although some fearful thoughts came to me that I should leave and drive home (30 minutes away), the substance of my prayer assured me that I was safe and that it was wise to stay at the Reading Room and continue to pray.

My prayer assured me that I was safe and that it was wise to stay at the Reading Room and continue to pray.

The lights went out, and I went to the back closet of our storefront. This was mid-afternoon, and I’d never seen such blackness outside—even at night. I sat in the corner of the closet calmly acknowledging the presence of divine intelligence, divine Love, the presence of God that precludes anything existing other than Life and harmony. I knew harmony was the only fact going on right then and there.

The front glass door unexpectedly blew open. After closing and locking it, I returned to my spot in the closet praying. I remember being so caught up in prayer that I didn’t hear a thing outside.

When the sunshine soon reappeared shining so brightly, I went back to the front door. Everything outside appeared clean and freshly washed, especially my car—the only one on the entire street for as far as I could see. The tree nearby and my car were both unharmed. A roof tile that had blown off the building had landed in front of our door. That was all the damage I saw. A few people came out, and I thought, What’s the big deal—all appears to be well—what are they looking at?

I walked around the building to investigate. All was well. It was on the way back around the building when I looked across the side street, and up and down it, that tears welled up. The destruction was apparent. And just a storefront away from our Reading Room I could see the pathway the tornado had cut. I returned to the Reading Room and used my cellphone to call
an out-of-town member to pray for the city and our Reading Room. I locked up and drove to a few church members’ homes who I thought may have needed help. At the request of these members, I also drove to the church to see if the building had sustained any damage—only minimal wind damage (quickly fixed).

At that point, the city was locked up—no incoming traffic—so I didn’t know if I’d be able to get out of town. A warm and generous church member I checked on gave me a glass of milk and graham crackers. What comfort for me. I felt like a little girl being cared for by her loving parents, who were reflecting God’s fathering and mothering to me. This member also offered for me to stay at her home that night if I needed to. However, I was able to leave town and get home. Our home had just a bit of minor water damage under a window.

God’s protection was tangible to me that day. I felt and saw it for myself, our Reading Room, church, our members, and our community. Although there was some structural damage and trees uprooted, I was grateful that not a single person in the city was harmed. Now, just three years later, those areas in the path of that tornado are renewed and flourishing.

I’m so grateful to be able to use what I learned from this experience to frame my prayers when confronted by news of tornadoes or other threatening weather conditions such as recently occurred in Missouri.