A church in California submits the following:
Our community is nestled on hills that spill down into the sea. Houses climb the hillsides and snuggle in the canyons. In the fall, and during many years on into the winter, these hills are tinder-dry when the winds blow from the desert to the ocean. One windy evening about dinnertime some blowing wires caused sparks that touched off a blaze. The fire soon threatened many homes. Our little town appeared to be under a siege, and our church was the closest to the fire of all the churches in the community. Some of our members' homes also seemed to be in immediate danger. The members alerted church workers in other parts of the community and in neighboring towns to pray for our community's safety and protection.
Whipped by seventy-mile-per-hour gusts, the flames blazed over the hills and spewed fiery embers and smoke on the buildings and trees and gardens for blocks on end. But there was a mightier force swelling through our community that night. Hearts opened to neighbors, and strangers gave comfort and help. The police, the firefighters, and communication people were where they were needed when they were needed. Neighboring towns sent additional help. In the village seven miles to the north, the Christian Science branch church spent the first minutes of its business meeting that night quietly offering prayer for our protection; and practitioners miles away held steadfastly to Mrs. Eddy's spiritual definition of "wind," which begins, "That which indicates the might of omnipotence and the movements of God's spiritual government, encompassing all things" (Science and Health, p. 597). Spiritually perceived, wind is not fearsome or destructive.
