
Getting through the storm
Happy 4th of July! So I’m going to talk about it…that crazy rain/tornado/lightning storm we had. Hey everybody! Wasn’t that crazy? All those tornadoes, everywhere? I have a story to tell you, it wasn’t funny then, but funny now. During that storm, we were in church at 7:15 Mass. Suddenly phones and pagers go off. The singer says, “it’s a tornado warning.” The sweet priest said something that I wasn’t sure I heard right, but I swore he said ‘the angels were coming.’ Ummm I hope not. Ain’t nobody has time for that. I myself have much more to do on this Earth.
I’m sure you remember that ole derecho from a few years ago that leveled half our farm? Well, our family sure does. Poor Tedd whom was home alone with Jessica that night was starting to panic a little in the pew. I’m sure I would’ve too if I was 7 and the dishes were moving in the cupboard and the big old hip roof (I called her the Queen Mary) blew apart to smithereens as they watched it out the window. Ron and I were at another child’s softball game about 60 miles away. We never knew it was going to be that bad of weather.
So back to Saturday night. Tedd was sitting next to me and was starting to get nervous. “Mom,” he whispered, “is it going to get the farm again?” I reassured him, but I didn’t know where it even was. We had kids at the Crystal Springs rodeo, thank goodness no one got hurt out there with that huge tornado and they left early so that was ok.
But as we sat there, I oddly felt okay about it. Which I’m a huge worrier. And honestly, that last storm we had where we had to put down animals ourselves in the aftermath, well that stays with a person. So does the financial aftermath. I just felt like God was saying it’s going to be ok. Which when I told a friend they said, “well the man upstairs was probably like, ‘I better take it easy on the Fairchild Ranchero this time.’” Then the kind lady in front of us at church, who in a very reassuring voice said, “we’re ok here, it’s going northeast of Gary.”
Ron and I looked at each other. We live northeast of Gary. I thought I was Baptist for a second. Because even if the priest said the angels were coming, he literally was in no hurry to zip that homily up. No shame to my Baptist friends by the way, but your sermons are kind of lengthy. As the Mass wrapped up, we took off. We saw the tornado out of town and we were fielding calls from our adult kids and friends wondering where the heck we were because they’d been trying to reach us for the last hour.
Then a really good friend called and asked how the weather was out by us. We didn’t know, we were kind of scared to leave town. We got invited over to their house to weather the storm. When we were able to go home, we went through flooded roads and were honestly scared to death of what was waiting for us at home. But when we arrived we didn’t even have standing water on the driveway. It was beyond crazy. We had left the overhead door on the chicken barn open and thought we’d have drowned birds because of all the rain. Dry as a bone in there. Incredible. We had three inches but I can’t even explain it.
So I don’t know if this was our “get out of weather scot-free” card, but I’m taking it. Now let’s enjoy July!
Until next time,
Fairchild “you know the
alternative is snow, right?” Farmgirl
Suzanne Fairchild is a freelance writer who lives on a farm in southwest Minnesota with her husband and children. She can be reached at rmf@itctel.com.
I’m sure you remember that ole derecho from a few years ago that leveled half our farm? Well, our family sure does. Poor Tedd whom was home alone with Jessica that night was starting to panic a little in the pew. I’m sure I would’ve too if I was 7 and the dishes were moving in the cupboard and the big old hip roof (I called her the Queen Mary) blew apart to smithereens as they watched it out the window. Ron and I were at another child’s softball game about 60 miles away. We never knew it was going to be that bad of weather.
So back to Saturday night. Tedd was sitting next to me and was starting to get nervous. “Mom,” he whispered, “is it going to get the farm again?” I reassured him, but I didn’t know where it even was. We had kids at the Crystal Springs rodeo, thank goodness no one got hurt out there with that huge tornado and they left early so that was ok.
But as we sat there, I oddly felt okay about it. Which I’m a huge worrier. And honestly, that last storm we had where we had to put down animals ourselves in the aftermath, well that stays with a person. So does the financial aftermath. I just felt like God was saying it’s going to be ok. Which when I told a friend they said, “well the man upstairs was probably like, ‘I better take it easy on the Fairchild Ranchero this time.’” Then the kind lady in front of us at church, who in a very reassuring voice said, “we’re ok here, it’s going northeast of Gary.”
Ron and I looked at each other. We live northeast of Gary. I thought I was Baptist for a second. Because even if the priest said the angels were coming, he literally was in no hurry to zip that homily up. No shame to my Baptist friends by the way, but your sermons are kind of lengthy. As the Mass wrapped up, we took off. We saw the tornado out of town and we were fielding calls from our adult kids and friends wondering where the heck we were because they’d been trying to reach us for the last hour.
Then a really good friend called and asked how the weather was out by us. We didn’t know, we were kind of scared to leave town. We got invited over to their house to weather the storm. When we were able to go home, we went through flooded roads and were honestly scared to death of what was waiting for us at home. But when we arrived we didn’t even have standing water on the driveway. It was beyond crazy. We had left the overhead door on the chicken barn open and thought we’d have drowned birds because of all the rain. Dry as a bone in there. Incredible. We had three inches but I can’t even explain it.
So I don’t know if this was our “get out of weather scot-free” card, but I’m taking it. Now let’s enjoy July!
Until next time,
Fairchild “you know the
alternative is snow, right?” Farmgirl
Suzanne Fairchild is a freelance writer who lives on a farm in southwest Minnesota with her husband and children. She can be reached at rmf@itctel.com.