Strange Day in April

The sun shone through my window when I awakened that beautiful Spring day. I heard my mother in the kitchen fixing breakfast. The smell of bacon, eggs and toast filled the house.

"Cindy, Paul, it’s time to get up! Breakfast is ready. Hurry, we have to get ready for church," she yelled.

The date, Palm Sunday, April 11, 1965 and I was eight years old. We lived four miles from Marion, Indiana across the road from the church we attended, Hanfield United Methodist.

After breakfast, my Dad said, "It’s so nice out today, Evelyn. Let’s have a picnic."

We picnicked under our maple tree with friends after church. When we finished lunch, the adults talked while we played hide-and seek. The day remained peaceful and calm.

"You know, it’s strange how calm it is today, no breeze at all" commented my father.

"You’re right. This is tornado weather" said my father’s friend.

Not long after our friends left, it sprinkled a little, but still no breeze. As we walked to the evening service, we noticed how black the sky looked. In fact, by the time our pastor stood to preach, the church lighting dimmed making it difficult to see.

Suddenly the wind picked up becoming louder and stronger, it shook the building. The minister kept preaching even though we barely heard him.

A softball-sized hailstone crashed throught the window hitting my father in the arm. Soon they were coming at us from everywhere. The minister continued to preach until the lights shut off. He then directed everyone to the basement.

Since we lived nearby, we walked home. Crossing the road proved more difficult then anticipated. Besides the hailstones, other objects flew at us. I protected my head wth one hand and held onto my parents with the other. Dad and Mom sandwiched Paul and me between them, fearing the strong wind might take us with it.

When we reached our home, Dad immediately turned on the transistor radio. A tornado hit three miles from us and then traveled throughout Marion. The shopping center roof blew off, houses were destroyed, many people were hurt, and several died. Our area experienced the tail end of the tornado.

The next day Dad returned from town with many stories. Two of these stories fascinated me. A woman walked up to a man to ask for help. When he looked at her he saw a thick piece of straw protruding from both sides of her head just above her ears. He took her to the hospital and she miraculously lived.

Another story concerned a family of four. The father walked to the basement to get something. The mother heard the tornado announcement on the radio. Fearing there wasn’t time to reach the basement, she and the children laid on the floor.

After the storm, the father ran up the stairs yelling for his family, but not expecting an answer. He heard a quiet voice say, "We’re over here, Daddy." The father unrolled a large rug where he found his family completely unharmed.

With everyone working together, buildings and houses were re-built or repaired and the city returned to normal in a short time. Palm Sunday of 2006 marked 41 years since that tornado.

What an adventure this was for me. I’ll never forget that strange day in April.


What are your thoughts about this story? Have you ever experienced a life-threatening event like this one? How did God protect you?