Hurricane

George was an athletic young student who was chosen as athlete of the year. He was liked and respected by most of the students in his Grade six class. The school he attended had children from all over the world. George was from Scotland. His friend Derek was from England, while Andrew had grown up in Hong Kong.

On the day of the hurricane the class was noisy, while outside, flurries of rain were scurrying across the playground. Raincoats, books and bags were being gathered together by the children who were enjoying an unexpectedly early end to the school day. Number 8 storm signal had been hoisted at the weather observatory to warn the city that Hurricane Henry was travelling towards the coast.
‘Right,’ said Miss Davis, ‘file out quietly to the buses, but make sure first that all the windows are closed.

Andrew hung back, waiting for George and Derek. George was cracking jokes and pretending to fall over with the force of the wind that swept through the open door across the classroom.
‘Get a move on there.’ Miss Davis had turned to see the three dawdlers and sounded rather cross. George pretended to be Miss Davis, walking across the room wearing a pair of high-heeled shoes. Miss Davis looked back at the giggling group of boys and sighed in exasperation.

‘You three boys can close the windows, but you’d better hurry up!
Dropping their armloads of satchels and raincoats, the boys climbed on the desks and slammed the windows shut. Outside, the wind was already howling across the playground, driving leafy branches against the fences. Andrew followed George and Derek out into the corridor and pulled the door shut behind him. He could see the buses lined up in the street below him; the school was already empty.

He and Derek clattered down the stairs where pieces of paper were swirling in a mad frenzy as the wind gusted up the stairs. Andrew glanced back up the stairs and saw George still leaning over the railing, watching the lashing rain. As he caught sight of the boys below, he grinned cheekily.
‘Look out!’ he called. ‘I am coming down the fast way.’

He dropped his satchel and raincoat over the banisters with a thud and then swung his legs over the edge. With a whoop of joy he slid around the corner of the stairs and vanished behind the concrete wall while the boys waited impatiently below.
‘He must have gone through the back gate,’ said Derek, looking anxiously towards the waiting buses already crowded with children. Bending low against the driving rain, they hurried around the corner of the school to stop in horror at the sight of George lying on the raindrenched playground. On the side of his head was a large lump and he looked dazed and sick. Andrew raced towards the rapidly dwindling bus line and pulled at Miss Davis’ arm.

‘George has fallen off the railings of the stairs,’ he gasped. ‘He seems to have hurt his head and he’s all funny and won’t talk to us!’
Tell George to get up and stop being so silly. That boy will just have to stop fooling around or he will miss the bus. She turned away from him and Andrew realized in panic that she did not know how serious the accident was. Miss Davis was used to George’s antics and seemed sure that he was pretending to be hurt as he had done many times before.

Derek was crouching by George’s head as Andrew came back with the news that Miss Davis certainly was not going to be much help to them. George’s face was white and he muttered incoherently. The boys stood by helplessly, not knowing what to do next.
‘Right,’ said Derek, taking the lead, ‘we’ve got to get him inside out of the rain and then we’ll phone his mother. She can drive here and collect him.’

They half dragged, half carried the moaning George into the shelter of a downstairs classroom. Andrew covered him with one of the raincoats and with the other made a pillow for his head. Derek came back quickly from the phone – the office was well locked and the phone out of reach inside. The last bus pulled out from the school as the boys watched anxiously from the window.
‘We’ll just have to stay here now. Perhaps his mother will come and look for him when he doesn’t get off the bus.’

Andrew nodded in agreement, but he was worried about his friend also. George complained about feeling sick and was sobbing quietly into his hands. Andrew sat by his head and tried to be cheerful.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘your mother is bound to come soon and we’ll just stay here until she does.’ George sobbed more, and Derek, who had never .seen his friend in tears before, was plainly frightened, too.

The wind was now shrieking around the building and the rain was being driven straight against the windows. Rivulets of water ran down the walls and began to dribble across the dusty floor. Together they made a platform of desks to keep George out of the water and sat next to him. He was quieter now, though he still complained that his head was hurting.
Andrew looked at his watch. Was it really only half an hour since the buses left? Slowly the minutes ticked by – an hour passed. A crash startled them as one of the windows suddenly shattered. Derek’s scream caused George to begin crying again.

Andrew moved closer to him, ‘Would you like me to pray for us?’ He felt embarrassed and the words sounded weak and a bit silly. George was too upset to care. The pain in his head throbbed behind his eyes and he found it difficult to make sense of anything that was happening. He nodded miserably, but Derek seemed relieved and rather pleased.
Andrew did not know what to pray. It was easy praying at home, but what would his friends think if they heard that he had been praying in school? Worse, what would George say afterwards? Perhaps he would make fun of him.

Sighing heavily, Andrew began to ask God to help them. The others muttered, “Amen” at the end and then they sat in silence, listening to the fury of the hurricane and the crash of smashing windows as debris was flung by the wind against the school windows.
Outside on the streets several lampposts had already been twisted into incredible shapes and lay bowed to the ground. Wires, looped to the ground, were tangled in fallen trees and the road was littered with sheets of galvanised iron roofing, fresh green branches and bushes.

The boys wandered around the classroom as time dragged by and George fell into an uneasy sleep. Most of the toys and books in the classroom belonged to the infants department and so were boring. For awhile they chalked on the board and then wandered back to the windows to watch the storm. They pressed their hands against the glass and felt it moving in and out with the changing pressure.
Afterwards Andrew could only remember the explosion as the glass erupted into a million wicked slivers which slashed their faces and hands. They stumbled back to the platform of desks and began picking off the tiny fragments. Derek had a thick stream of blood oozing down his chin and tiny dots of blood over his arms where the glass had been embedded by the force of the breaking window. Andrew had a deep cut on his cheek, and his face and arms stung and ached.

It was hard not to be frightened and lonely. Did God really care? Where were their parents? Even solid old Derek was whimpering now in pain and fear. George lay quietly, but his face was still a queer white colour and the lump on his head now extended to a large blue-black bruise near the side of his eye. It was Derek though who realized that George was not asleep but unconscious. He drew close to Andrew and they huddled together in the darkening classroom.

The hurricane was in fact swirling around a central area of peace and quiet. As the storm passed over the city it began to die away, giving the residents an hour or two
of peace before the shrieking wind returned to blow with the same intensity, only from a different direction. The playground outside the classroom was littered still with branches, bits of wood, pieces of iron roofing and sodden paper, but the wind was quieter now and the boys soon noticed that, although the rain was still eddying down the window pain, the wind was no longer as strong and the noise of the storm was dying.

They realized it was still useless to go for help. The whole city was safely locked away in buildings, with large storm shutters over doors and windows. No-one would be stirring until the hurricane had completely left the area and that could mean several more hours for George before they could safely take him to the hospital.

Andrew looked at George’s still body and began to talk to God in his mind. He told him how scared he was and how he did not know what to do. After a while he found it easier to pray and he did not feel so silly about it.
Derek sat up. ‘I hear a car!’ he said excitedly. ‘I’m going to see who it is.’
In no time at all he was back, running in his relief, to announce that George’s father had come to find them. Together they carried George to the car and drove him to the hospital where their own parents came to meet them.

Later that evening George’s mother rang to tell them the good news that he was feeling better, but would have to spend a few more days in the hospital.
“George tells me that you boys prayed for him,” she said. “His dad and I want to thank you very much.”
Andrew thanked the Lord for answering his prayers and was glad he had the courage to pray in front of his friends. The door was now open for him to share his faith further with George in the future.

Sometimes the Lord leads us through unusual or dangerous circumstances in order for us to be able to share our faith with someone. We just need to have the courage to turn to Him for help no matter who is around.