I've only felt the urgent need to pray out loud twice in my life. Once when our son was born when there was a few tense minutes waiting for him to turn from blue to pink. The second time was Monday night in Sheldon, Iowa. We had camped on the grounds of a nursing home and the weather that day had been in the high 90s. Storms moved in around 11 p.m., and we watched the lighting for awhile and went to sleep. We were awaked around 12:45 a.m. to our tent lifting on one side, wind bearing down on our tent like I've only seen in movies. There was pouring rain and nonstop lighting directly above our heads. The sky lit up with the lighting and we saw the blue/green hue that makes you start to feel sick in your stomach. We could hear people yelling as our camp coordinators worked to tear down an awning in the middle of all the storm. Tents were collapsing all around us. Finally we made a dash for the nursing facility's dining room. There were sirens blaring but you could barely hear them above the storm. In the morning we found out that a boy had been killed by a tree falling in the main campground.
Anyway, I said my prayers out loud in the tent while Gary and I were trying to hold it down and decide whether to stay or run. I am so thankful to be alive.