That day in May 1927 began just like any other spring day. However, that afternoon, huge thunderheads built up in the southwest sky, so we hurried to get our work done before the storm hit.
My sister had trouble getting the cows into the barn. They acted like they wanted to head out to the far pasture.
We saw an odd-looking cloud in the west, but thought nothing of it.
While we were eating supper, the phone rang, so my sister went to see who it was. By the time she answered it, no one was there.
Just then, we saw a huge funnel cloud a mile or two from our house.
We ran to the cellar, and while my older sister held the door closed, my other sister and I clung to Mother. All of a sudden, we heard a terrible roar – a sound I hope to never hear again.
After about 10 or 15 minutes, we came out to see what had been damaged. The barn and the chicken house were still standing, but the house was totally destroyed.
Shortly after the storm passed, a neighbor came over. He was taking stock of how many homes had been hit. Six or seven houses, as well as our little church, were destroyed.
We spent the night with neighbors. Dad later rented another place for us to stay.
People donated clothes, furniture, money and tools to help those who had been affected by the storm.
We held Sunday school and church at a nearby school until our new church could be built.
Our little schoolhouse had been destroyed, too, so that summer my dad and brother rebuilt it.
We were able to salvage very little from our home. We had a heavy stove in the kitchen, but it was never found.
Mother’s family Bible and eyeglasses were on the dining room table before the storm, and afterward they were still there, undisturbed.
One of the cows was standing in the water tank, the chickens had been stripped of their feathers, and we saw a squirrel with no tail.
Needless to say, I watch storm clouds closely now, and I continue to thank God for His care.
Medicine Lodge, Kan.
