A tornado brought us together.
It was 9:30 on a stormy Friday night, and we were just leaving the church office when the phone rang. Our 14-year-old daughter groaned, and John, my pastor husband, debated whether to answer it. With the economy down, our church had been targeted by a flood of scammers, each with a sob story, all wanting cash for a bus ticket or gas. We always suspected a scam when they refused our offer to follow them to the station and help them pump the gas.
“I just want to go home,” my daughter, Carrie, muttered as she sank down in a chair, knowing it would be another 15-minute wait. “Friday nights are so boring, and I’m so tired.”
It had been a …