Tornado hits Bloomington, Bob Kaplowitz improves, and Jonathan Edwards reminds us...

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Playhouse Last night a tornado came through our back yard and moved on east wreaking havoc across the west side of Bloomington. Three lots down it rolled our son-in-law and daughter, Doug and Heather Ummel's, backyard playhouse which is the size of a middling storage shed and, being made all of wood, very, very heavy. A little way down Highway 45, it devastated Don and Heather Van Timmeren's yard, but left their house intact. Most of their trees are down.

Then it hit the trailer court on our son-in-law and daughter, Ben and Michal Crum's, street just a block from their house and just up the road from us. No one was seriously injured, but Michal took this movie and you can see all the trailers were moved across the court or obliterated, as were the trees. See the car flipped upside down?

Taylor's best friend, John Alberson, is a jarhead grunt just back from deployment on the Pakistani border of Afghanistan. (We praise God for his safe return!) Taylor and Jon were here when the tornado hit and went out with the chain saw and helped clear trees until 5 AM. (The storm hit about 11 PM.)

We thank God no one was seriously injured here in Bloomington, but looking at the many, many deaths in Missouri and knowing we could just as easily have been killed last night...

it's such a comfort that our God controls the wind and thunder and lightning and tornados and tsunamis and earthquakes. Not fate, but our Heavenly Father controls our years and days and minutes and seconds. And as I read to Bob Kaplowitz in his hospital room the other night, he numbers the hairs on our head. (By the way, praise God that Bob is breathing on his own again!)

Do you remember this section of Jonathan Edwards?

And scarce any thing, among all the works of nature, was so sweet to me as thunder and lightning; formerly, nothing had been so terrible to me. Before, I used to be uncommonly terrified with thunder, and to be struck with terror when I saw a thunder storm rising; but now, on the contrary, it rejoiced me. I felt God, so to speak, at the first appearance of a thunder storm; and used to take the opportunity, at such times, to fix myself in order to view the clouds, and see the lightnings play, and hear the majestic and awful voice of God’s thunder, which oftentimes was exceedingly entertaining, leading me to sweet contemplations of my great and glorious God. While thus engaged, it always seemed natural to me to sing, or chant for my meditations; or, to speak my thoughts in soliloquies with a singing voice.

The other day, our three-year-old grandson, Daniel Crum, asked his grandmother, "Do you know what thunder is?"

Mary Lee responded, "No, what?"

"God's power!" he said.