When the Storm Came-A Post Rodeo Reflection

I’m sitting here, thoroughly exhausted, heart full, and still a little stunned by the whirlwind that was this past rodeo weekend.

It was everything I hoped for—dust in the air, laughter spilling from booths, the hum of country music and cowboy boots, and the kind of atmosphere that makes you feel like you belong. I met incredible people. I saw familiar faces and spoke with strangers who felt like friends. There was joy, connection, and the kind of energy that makes you want to do it all over again.

And then the storm came.

Not just a sprinkle. Not just wind. A massive, chaotic, tent-snapping, setup-crushing storm that tried to rip everything away from me. I watched as my booth—my art, my heart—was nearly swallowed whole by the wind. It was terrifying. I felt helpless.

But then... helping hands showed up.

People I barely knew ran toward me, not away. They braved the weather, grabbed my things, shoved them into my car, and saved what they could. It was messy, frantic, and holy. I saw God in their courage. I saw grace in the chaos.

The next day, I found my tent snapped in several places. But I was offered a new space—tucked under the overhang of a building. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. And so I set up again. I shared my burned hats. I shared stories. I smiled through the exhaustion. I persevered.

I will absolutely do it again.

Because the rodeo wasn’t just an event. It was a reminder. That storms will come. That fear will try to steal the joy. But God provides. Through people. Through places. Through unexpected shelter and second chances.

To everyone who helped me that night—you were the hands and feet of Jesus. I’ll never forget it.

And to anyone walking through their own storm: hold fast. There’s beauty on the other side. Even if your tent snaps in half.