The Storm Shelter on Maple Street

On May 20, 2013, an EF5 tornado carved a seventeen-mile path through Moore, Oklahoma, flattening entire neighborhoods in minutes. Wind speeds exceeded two hundred miles per hour. Houses that had stood for decades were reduced to slabs.

But on Maple Street, the Hernandez family survived. Not because their home was stronger than anyone else's — it wasn't. They survived because eighteen months earlier, Carlos Hernandez had dug a reinforced concrete storm shelter beneath his garage. When the sirens wailed that Monday afternoon, Carlos grabbed his wife and three children, pulled open the steel door, and descended into safety. Above them, the world came apart. Their roof peeled away. Their minivan landed two blocks east. The oak tree in the front yard was stripped to a bare trunk.

When the family climbed out twenty minutes later, there was nothing left of their house. But every one of them was breathing, holding each other, alive.

Carlos didn't build that shelter during the storm. He built it on a calm Tuesday afternoon when the sky was blue and the decision felt almost unnecessary. That's the crucial detail.

Proverbs 18:10 tells us, "The name of the Lord is a fortified tower; the righteous run to it and are safe." The Almighty doesn't become our refuge in the moment of crisis — He already is. The question is whether we've learned to run to Him before the winds pick up, whether we know the way to the shelter by heart, so that when the sirens sound, our feet already know where to go.