::: they didn’t know
no. 1 // a psalm of gratitude for the shelter you didn’t know you needed
The tornado sirens went off just before dark on this night in March. We gathered the grandchildren and went to safety… five little ones who had no idea what was happening outside and no interest in finding out. They had toy trucks and a flashlight they found in the corner. They also had each other.
I watched them play and prayed over them at the same time, and somewhere in that hour God handed me this psalm.
Written Sunday evening, March 15, 2026, during a tornado warning in Arkansas.
They Didn’t Know
The winds came at dusk, Lord.
We heard them before we saw them…
that low, rolling pressure
that makes the air feel wrong.
We gathered the little ones
and rushed to safety.
And there in that small safe place,
five small people made a world out of toy trucks
and the flashlight they found in the corner.
They didn’t know.
They giggled over nothing.
They traded cars and argued over who had the blue one
and fell into each other laughing
while the branches hit the roof above their heads.
They didn’t know.
And I watched them, Lord…
watched them with that particular ache
that lives somewhere between terror and tenderness,
praying over littles who don’t know they need it,
standing guard over joy
that has no idea what’s howling outside.
How many times have You done this for me?
Not with fear… You have none.
But with that calm, sovereign watch
that never sleeps and never wavers,
keeping the roof sturdy above my head
while I played on the floor below.
How many storms rolled through
while I was unbothered, unaware,
trading ordinary moments with ordinary people
on what was actually an extraordinary night?
How many branches fell
while I laughed in my own small world?
The winds calmed the way they always do.
We came out from the safe area.
The little ones ran straight inside
and kept right on playing…
cousins tumbling over each other,
still unbothered, still laughing,
as if the world had never tilted.
And the adults sat together in the quiet after,
just breathing the same air,
whispering gratitude.
They still didn’t know.
And maybe that’s the gift, Lord.
Not the knowing…
but the One who knows for us.
The One who counts the branches before they fall
and keeps watch in the dark
over everyone playing on the floor.
Be thou my shelter when I am the child.
Keep me when I don’t know to ask.
And when the winds calm
and life just continues…
let me remember, just for a moment,
that You were there.
That You were always there.
Amen.
~ Mary Kaye Chambers
03-15-2026📖 Relevant Scriptures
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
— Psalm 46:1 (KJV)
When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.
— Isaiah 43:2 (KJV)
He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.
— Psalm 121:3–4 (KJV)
Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.
— Matthew 10:29–31 (KJV)
If you’re weathering a storm right now… seen or unseen… I’d be honored to pray for you. Hit reply or leave a comment below.
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