From Dec. 2 to Dec. 4, 2007, Astoria, OR weathered the region’s first recorded hurricane. Sustained winds reached 125 mph, annihilating forests, crushing homes, peeling back roofs, and knocking out all power and phone services, including the 9-1-1 system. Every road in the area was rendered impassable, blocked by fallen trees or flooding. Astoria was completely cut off from the world. And yet, when all of man’s mechanical innovations and technology failed, a spirit of compassion, concern, and sacrifice shone through countless individuals. I personally witnessed God’s grace manifested through “Four Bearded Men”: Rev. David Prichard, Troy Guy, Patrick Preston, and Randy Jones.

Monday morning, Dec. 3, I gave up trying to sleep. The noise of the storm was so intense that I felt as if my skull was being repeatedly pounded by a giant fist. I threw open the living room curtains, and was utterly shocked by what greeted my eyes. The grand front porch of our 1918 Craftsman bungalow was missing its western wall (instead of railings, the sides of the porch are comprised of short, shingled walls). This wall had slammed to the sidewalk below, where it had obviously knocked over a retaining wall and picket fence like dominoes. Unbeknownst to me at the time, this wall, while plummeting to its demise, had bounced onto the gas main and meter directly below it. Only God’s incredible kindness and mercy prevented the pipe from rupturing.

I was compelled to take a look at the front attic, which is comprised of the porch roof. When I entered the space, the motion was so violent – akin to a boat tossed on rough seas – that I retreated in terror. My husband, Josef, went up to take a look, and found cracked rafters and beams on the south side of the roof. Our roof is relatively new and of high quality – it had not peeled back, rather, the entire structure had been banging up and down! Josef quickly became very busy, endeavoring to hold things together with a series of Simpson plates and ties.

Perhaps as a way to calm myself, I started to practice the violin, while watching the storm’s progress. Much to my amazement, I saw our Pastor, Dave Prichard, fight his way towards our front porch. The wind hurled him back; he doggedly made his way around the side of the house. I met him at the back porch, when he informed me that he’d come to tell Josef that the stained glass window had blown in at the Performing Arts Center (Josef is the PAC Stage Manager). I led Pastor Dave up to the attic, where he exclaimed, “you have much worse problems than you think! The gable is splitting in the middle!”. Into the attic he disappeared, ready to offer assistance.

Meanwhile, back downstairs, I had resumed practicing and staring out the windows. This time, I saw a transformer ready to plunge off its pole, our neighbor’s truck resting innocently below. With perfect timing, both Pastor Dave and Josef came downstairs, and I was able to show them the impending “transformer meets truck” disaster. Josef was on his way to warn our neighbor when Pastor Dave stopped him. “You’ll die out there, ” he said, referring to Josef’s small stature. “I’m built for this kind of thing!” (Our Pastor is a big man.) Back out into the furiously whipping winds he went. We watched our neighbor, Troy Guy, move his truck. Then Troy fought his way up to our house, lugging coils of rope. Pastor Dave had told him about the situation with our front gable, and the two of them had decided it was time to tie our porch down. Troy is a marine biologist with years of experience at sea; he is an expert at tying knots, as well as being an avid crabber with a generous stash of rope for the crab pots. Seemingly from out of nowhere, two more neighbors appeared, Patrick Preston and Randy Jones. Ropes were tossed, tugged and tied. The transformer across the street crashed to its ugly death. Josef was blown into the laurel hedge. Pastor Dave marshaled his remaining forces – Jones, Preston, and Guy – with a final, furious assault of rope. Sweet victory! The porch was tied down. A historic house was saved from what could have been devastating damage.

As I watched the rescue of our house unfold (yes, fiddling all the while), I noticed a touch of whimsy – all four of our God-sent helpers sported beards! All four of them were also strong, able, and willing to sacrifice their time, safety, and comfort to help their neighbor. The gift they gave was enormous. Our hearts overflow with gratitude and appreciation. Thank you, Four Bearded Men, for letting God’s grace flow through you so freely.