I was alone and petrified. The rain hammered against the windows. I pulled the drapes but I could still hear the eerie banging of tree branches against the roof.

It was reported that Hurricane Hugo would gain momentum by late afternoon. Warnings were given to batten down everything.

What was I to do? I had already let down the 50 foot TV antenna, breaking three fingernails and almost a finger in the process. The front porch swing had been flung into the evergreen tree at the end of the house. Not being strong enough to dislodge it, I left it dangling in the tree, praying it wouldn't fly through the living room window. There was nothing else to batten down....except my emotions.

I began to think about God as I did during the flood of 1969, when our house was nearly washed away by flood water. God had my undivided attention then as I saw His awesome power and protection during that storm.

I hadn't thought much about God and how faith enters into life's experiences until that time. Now my faith was being tested again and this time I was alone, a widow on my own.

The moaning wind intensified and the torrential rains continued pelting the windowpanes. I walked from room to room, trying to muster enough courage to land somewhere. The raging elements were unsettling. Remembering God's past protection and knowing I could count on Him again I felt a need to pray and devise a plan. I could not continue pacing, opening myself to fear.

Praying, I gathered up all my tole painting supplies, a fan to circulate the still air, a radio to drown out the raging storm, and shut myself in the bathroom.

All I could hear was the music of the radio and the soft whir of the fan as I began to paint on the bathroom wall. I was thankful for my safe haven and, as my energies immersed in the mural unfolding on the wall before me, I forgot the raging storm.

The scene I painted depicted country children standing in a line to go to the Johnny House. Their gestures and anguished positions indicated their anxiousness to get into the John as soon as possible. Bright red and yellow acrylics became little girl's dresses and Amish blue was brushed into tattered overalls. Medium and light flesh tones and soft pink put rosy cheeks on the little children's faces. Bare feet stood in muted green grass.

Many hours passed and my legs were stiff from sitting in a cramped position. My arms were tired from hours of continued painting, but my mind had been freed from the tortuous sounds of wind and rain.

When my spirit shifted from it's creative mode to, "now it's time to quit," I turned off the fan and the radio, opened the bathroom door and looked outdoors. Though it was still raining, the raging wind had subsided and the swaying trees were calmer. Looking at the huge mass of debris in the yard, I noticed the swing was still lodged in the tree, but there was no damage to my property.

I returned to survey my creation. It was incomplete but the story was there. I knew it would take almost another day to complete the mural, but the project had achieved its purpose for me. I had been safe in the arms of the Lord as I calmly worked.

To this day I have not completed the work I started on that stormy day, but it stands as a constant reminder to me that God is always faithful. Everyone who visits my bathroom now laughs at the scene that I call The Hugo Mural. I tell them perhaps I will finish it someday during another hurricane, but mostly I tell them about God's protection through that storm and how grateful I am to Him.