The tropical rain poured down, causing a deafening roar on the roof. “Can you go support my little tree?” Naya said to her husband as they lay in bed. She had just planted a little fruit tree by the road and was worried it would not withstand the storm.

“Oh, the storm will probably be over soon,” her husband replied with a yawn as he turned over. Naya crawled out of the mosquito net and shuffled around in the dark for her shoes. She grabbed some scraps of rope and bamboo sticks from her porch. In an instant, she was soaked to the bone as she drove the stakes into the ground, using them and the rope to secure her weak little tree. It had already started to bend over with the pelting rain. Naya pulled on the last knot and wiped the rain off her face.

Gathering her wet skirt, she turned and walked back to the house. Suddenly, a huge truck came barreling around the bend, careening out of control. Mud and rainwater splattered on her back as the truck veered off the road, zooming past her house with a roar. She turned to see the deep tire tracks left by the truck’s wheels in the soft mud. Her little tree was completely obliterated. Her heart raced as the reality of what happened sunk in. Had she remained at the tree any longer, she, too, would have been obliterated.

“Not a bone would be left of me,” Naya said in conclusion. She sat across from me at the little table in front of her tiny metal house by the road.

I squinted as the evening sun shone through the coconut palms, a shocked look still lingering on my face from the peril of the story. “God definitely protected you!” I said. She nodded in agreement.

“For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways. On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone” (Psalm 91:11-12 ESV).

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