Meet the VBS Writers – GG Mathis

In this case, the train was an F-5 tornado packing 200-mile-an-hour wind that derailed my home and hometown on May 22, 2011. The storm came so suddenly we didn’t have time to grab a mattress to pull over us. My husband, son and I simply got on our knees (appropriate; we spent the next several minutes in gut-churning, cry-out-to-Heaven prayer), linked wrists, and rode it out. We’d squeeze hands and call out, “Are you OK?” every few minutes as we felt the suction of the roof being ripped off. Miracle #1: the only part of the house left intact was the hallway where we took refuge.
As soon as the twister passed, my husband yelled for us to make a dash for it to his old Explorer, which had two-by-fours sticking out of it at several wacky angles, but would give us a roof over our heads while we figured out what to do next. Because I had the presence of mind to grab my purse, we had the keys on us—my husband said, “Let’s try it.” Miracle #2: “Maggie” the Explorer started as soon as he turned the key.
Maggie’s windshield was shattered and muddy, so with heads hanging out driver and passenger windows, we called out positions to each other so that we could four-wheel it over debris and downed power lines out of our neighborhood. Over the hail and battering rain, I yelled, “Go to the first hotel you see standing south of town.”
We pulled into the Hilton Garden Inn soaked to the skin, shaking with shock and nausea, and one of us barefoot (my son hadn’t grabbed his shoes). People met us at the door with towels and blankets, and one of the first things I remember a staff member saying was, “Would you like a cup of tea?” Miracle #3: we looked out the window moments later, and all four tires on the Explorer were flat.
Hotel guests rummaged through suitcases to fit us with replacements for our filthy, fiberglass-soaked clothes. In minutes, I was outfitted in shirt and shorts from San Diego and a Purdue sweatshirt and flip-flops from Indiana.
And thus began an adventure in God’s provision that has led us from a sopping pile of sawdust and splinters to a small, snug home in a neighborhood where the trees and ground are whole.
When you multiply our story by the hundreds of families in Joplin who experienced God’s sheltering hand during the killer storm, I hope you’ll come to the same conclusion I have: our amazing God is powerful in the storm, after the storm, and in spite of the storm. What a privilege to share that truth with boys and girls this year!