Cheryl Hughes: Storms

Mon, 06/04/2018 - 12:14am — Diane Dyer

Storms have never bothered me much. If there are every thunder storm warnings flashing across the local TV screen, I’ll look up from the book I’m reading and tell my husband Garey, who is checking the sky from various vantage points in the house, to let me know when we need to head to the cellar.

On Saturday, I worked until noon, came home, ate lunch then headed to the garden to hoe out the green beans. Garey was working a fenced-in area of peas near the house, and he didn’t notice that I had gone down the hill with just a hoe, walking, instead of taking the golf cart.

I took some zinnia seeds to plant in the row where the sunflowers had skipped, and I hoed around the zucchini and other squash plants before heading over to the green beans. I was putting off the work in the green bean row, because they were planted next to a fence, which makes picking much easier, but hoeing much harder.

About three-fourths of the way through the row, I noticed ominous clouds began forming overhead, but the darkest ones seemed to be over Woodbury, and I told myself the storm would probably follow the path of the river, skipping over our farm. The wind picked up, but I kept hoeing. A few drops of rain fell, still I kept hoeing. I was just a few plants away from the end of the row when the first clap of thunder sounded. “I can finish before the worst gets here,” I said to myself. I was at the last bean plant when the sky opened up.

I made a run for the big oak tree at the end of the garden, but I was drenched by the time I reached the safety of its branches. The wind began to howl—the phrase “like a banshee” comes to mind—and the limbs of the oak bowed nearly to the ground. Lightning streaked across the sky, and I turned and threw my arms around the trunk of the oak—and yes, I realize that makes me a tree-hugger. I could feel the wind trying to pull my body away from the tree, and in those moments, several thoughts rapid-fired through my mind: “Grandma Mattingly was struck by lightning when she was 15; please, God, don’t let me die under this tree, Sabria needs me; I understand why John Newton was converted to Christianity (more about him later); and Psalm 4:8 Thou alone Oh Lord dost cause me to dwell in safety.”

Meanwhile, back at the house, Garey had made a run for the storm shelter. He saw the golf cart in the yard, so he thought I’d driven it back from the garden. He ran from the cellar into the house and was puzzled when he couldn’t find me there. He climbed into his pickup and started down to the garden, but didn’t see me, so he backed up, circled the house and went to the barn to see if I was there, checking on the horses. I wasn’t. I was still holding onto the oak tree, saying over and over, “Thou alone Oh Lord dost cause me to dwell in safety.”

The storm finally started to ease up, so I let go of the tree, stepped back, and was amazed at what I saw…and I’m not making this up. Between me and the tree, in the spot where I had been holding on for dear life, was a three-foot wooden cross. Let me explain. It was a left-over prop from which Garey had hung an old shirt and hat for a make-shift scarecrow in last year’s garden. I had literally clung to an old wooden cross.

At about the same time, Garey had decided I had to be in the garden, so he was making his way down the hill in the pickup as I emerged from under the tree. He took a picture of me as I was walking toward the truck. I was not amused.

Now for the John Newton story. Newton was a slave-trader during the 1750s. On one fateful voyage, he and his cargo were caught in a violent storm off the coast of Ireland. He called out to God for salvation, and his ship, crew and cargo were miraculously saved. He converted to Christianity and penned the famous hymn, “Amazing Grace.”

I will tell you right now, if I hadn’t been a Christian when I ran under that oak tree, I would have been when I emerged.

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