Singing Hymns as My Sons Wait Out a Tornado Warning

The three of us were rushing to the car in the rain. We were leaving the church later than I would have liked. EA was working late so I was staring down the barrel of getting the two of them to bed solo and they were wired. Then I heard the sound. A wailing siren. "Ugh," I said under my breath, but apparently loud enough for Jim to hear me. "Why did you say, 'Arrrrrrruuuuugggggghhhhh'?"

I probably should have thought a second before I answered. Jim can get a little skittish sometimes, but after work my mind wasn't in top gear. "You hear that noise? It's a tornado siren." Mild concern. "What does that mean?" Didn't think again. "It means someone has seen a tornado." More concern. "HERE?!" Crap, not one of my finer parenting moments. "No...probably some place further away, but it does mean we need to get home as quick as we can." This response was semi-satisfying, but Jim obviously had more questions.

(I should throw in that we live just over a mile down the road lest you think I was going to drive my kids for 30 minutes as tornado sirens were blaring through Middle Tennessee.)

When we got home, I told the boys to go into the bathroom while I got their dinner ready. If the siren was still going when I was done, we'd have a picnic by the toilet and the sink. That sounded reasonably fun to them so Jim grabbed a book, Liam scooped up his ducks and monkey, and they ambled into the bathroom.

As we sat down of the floor of that bathroom with warmed up pizza, carrots, and fruit snacks. Liam was chill. He proudly explained that the toilet paper was now sitting on the floor so his head could fit under the toilet paper holder. Jim, I could tell was still a little bit nervous. "You okay, buddy?" "Are we safe?" "Yeah, we're safe. You still a little nervous?" He nodded with eyes slightly wider.

"It's okay to be nervous, but we're going to be okay." I nodded and he believed me, but he was still a little scared. "Do you know what I do when I get a little scared?" I asked. And by "I," I apparently meant Julie Andrews because I was about to channel The Sound of Music without realizing it. Or at least a more Jesus-y version of Julie Andrews, which is kind of odd since she did play a nun in that movie; a nun who left the convent, but a nun nonetheless.

"I sing songs about God. Because it helps me remember that God is with me and God loves me and protects me." Then Jim asked why God allowed tornados to happen because he's my son and I am getting absolutely everything I deserved. So after a brief, child-friendly conversation about theodicy with a seven year old (as his four year old brother contentedly munched pizza next to him), Jim asked, "What kind of songs do you sing?"

I went straight to my wheelhouse: Vacation Bible School songs. Songs that had funny voices, hand motions, and simple words that they knew. We sang "My God is So Big," "Jesus' Love is A-Bubblin' Over," "Itty Bitty Seeds," and "Peace Like a River." They laughed and smiled and sang along. Jim stopped asking me every few minutes if the siren was still wailing.

They asked if we could sing more songs. I told them a story about how I used to sing when I was house training Obie when he was just a puppy. I would go outside every cool autumn evening in a a hoodie and sang hymns--sometimes for half an hour--while I waited for him to use the bathroom (I actually wrote about this ten years ago in a post titled "Singing Hymns While My Dog Poops," which is a title I love so much). Jim asked what songs I sang.

I am not very confident in my singing. I love music, but I don't sing much in front of other people unless it is one of those silly VBS-style songs. I did sing a line of a hymn during a sermon a few months back and immediately regretted it. But I didn't hesitate to sing for Jim and Liam. They listened as I sang "Amazing Grace," "Come Thou Fount," and "Be Thou My Vision." Jim mentioned the hymn they sing at church and he and I sang the Doxology together. He beamed as he sang. It was all kind of wonderful.

The tornado siren stopped and we eventually made our way out of that half bath. They got rambunctious and bedtime was a bit of a difficult slog. Not exactly the neat and happy ending but such is parenthood.

But there was something truly special about that time as we waited out that siren. I saw music ease my oldest son's troubled mind. Silly songs and hymns turned that bathroom into a sacred space. We had church with pizza, amazing grace, and itty bitty seeds right by the toilet. That's what I love so much about music. It can transform any space and bring us closer: to each other and to the One who made us.