Howdy, y’all! Mary here. Now, I know, I know – you’re probably wondering, “What’s an ol’ gal like Mary gonna tell me that’s actually worth reading all the way through?” Well, I tell ya, maybe you just shouldn’t read this at all. In fact, turn right back now, and go catch a rerun of ‘Bonanza’ instead. But for those of you stubborn enough to stick around, boy, do I have a whopper of a story to share that might just resonate a chord or two.

Picture this: It’s the late ’70s, the era of disco (which, by the way, I never quite understood), bell-bottoms, and wood-paneled station wagons. My husband, Jake, and I were living in a small town in the heart of Missouri. Now, Jake, bless his heart, was the epitome of the strong, silent type. He’d work the farm from sunup to sundown, rain or shine, with nary a complaint. I’d say, “Jake, you sure you’re alright?” He’d just nod and say, “God provides.” That’s Jake – a man of few words but profound faith.

Life seemed picture-perfect. We had a bountiful farm, two beautiful kids, and every Sunday, we’d be sitting in the same pew at St. Matthew’s, singing hymns and praising the Lord. Then came the tornado of ’79. One minute, I’m hanging up laundry, humming ‘Amazing Grace’, and the next, I hear the freight train roar of Mother Nature’s fury. That twister ripped through our farm like it was made of toothpicks. In a blink, the barn was gone, crops destroyed, and we were left staring at a scene from one of those apocalyptic movies I never did care much for.

Now I ain’t gonna lie to ya – my faith was tested. Standing in the wreckage of our lives, with the scent of earth and devastation all around, I turned to Jake, expecting him to crumble. But Jake, with his calm blue eyes and a smirk that seemed to defy the very chaos surrounding us, looked up to the heavens and murmured, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.” I thought, “Well, isn’t that just dandy.” Truth be told, I was madder than a rooster in a rainstorm. Here was our livelihood in ruins, and Jake’s answer was to trust more intensely.

So what does a good ol’ Missouri girl do in such situations? I knelt down right there, amidst the debris of our barn, and I prayed. I prayed like I’d never prayed before. Not for the barn or the crops, but for a sign of grace – something, anything, to help me believe as strongly as Jake did. And wouldn’t you know it, the very next Sunday, our church family showed up in droves. Folk from all over the county came to help rebuild, bringing food, supplies, and more importantly, their unwavering faith. I remember Mrs. Johnson, a lady with the heart of gold and a potato salad recipe that could make you see Jesus, looking me right in the eyes and saying, “Mary, you just gotta hang on. The Lord’s plan is bigger than any storm.” That struck a chord deep within me.

It wasn’t the physical help that resonated the most with me during that dark phase – though every nail hammered and every prayer muttered was a Godsend. It was the spirit of community, the conviction of faith-bound neighbors, and the realization that even in the eye of the storm, we were drenched in God’s grace. As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, we rebuilt our barn, re-sowed our fields, and never missed a Sunday service – even if it meant sitting in the open field amongst the ruins.

Funny thing is, that storm did more than tear down our barn; it built up our hearts. It reminded me of the age-old truth that sometimes, the Lord lets us walk through low valleys so we can appreciate His hand in guiding us to the mountaintops. Jake’s unwavering faith became my anchor. And as we worked side by side rebuilding our life, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace that can only come from surrendering to His will. Ain’t that something?

If you’re still reading, bless your heart. Maybe you’ve been through a storm or two yourself. Just remember, dearest, life’s hardships aren’t sent to break you, but to mold you. God’s love shines brightest in the darkest of times – much like stars do on a clear Missouri night. So, hang on tight, and let His grace be your guide. And who knows, maybe during your most challenging times, you’ll find your faith renewed and a community of believers standing with you, potato salad in hand.

Well, I reckon that’s my two cents. Now go on and share your story down in the comments, or simply reflect on the touching tales you see. Either way, let’s be the beacons of hope and faith in each other’s lives. God bless!