SHARING MY STORY by Oleta Lutz
Oleta Lutz was touched by Linda Sommerville’s message on Sunday. Linda spoke about an experience in her college years that was so similar to one Oleta had experienced in her early 30's that she felt God’s nudge to share it.
I was living in Citrus Heights, raising two boys on my own after my husband had moved out several months before. My husband asked if he could take them camping and hiking with a friend of his at Mt. Shasta.
I wanted to try to maintain some normalcy in the boys’ lives if possible, and the friend was a good, reliable guy, and both men were experienced outdoors men. So, it seemed like a good idea to me. That night I went to bed without any concern for the kids’ safety because I knew they were in good hands.
However, in the middle of the night, I was awoken to something I can only describe as terror. It was not a nightmare, it was a “terrormare.” I had a sense of a pressure pushing on me that I could not identify. I could see my kids kneeling up against something that was moving, wave-like. They were scared—very scared. Adults were present, and they, too, were scared.
The only thing I could think to do was to pray, but words escaped me. I was so scared. I don't usually pray on my knees, but I peeled out of bed, fell on my knees, and repeated the only words that my frozen mind could think to say, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, protect my children,” and I repeated that phrase over and over and over. I have no idea how long this went on, it seemed like a very long time.
Suddenly, like a whoosh...the pressure disappeared and I knew that whatever it was, was gone.
I climbed back in bed and thought, “what in the world was that all about?”
I hate to admit this but I don't remember thanking God for anything! I was just perplexed and a little annoyed. I remember thinking, “I'll never get another winks sleep tonight!”
The next thing I knew sunshine was pouring through my bedroom windows and it was 8:30 am! And I had no recollection of that night’s event until my son called to say they were coming home. That shocked me back to reality because I wasn't expecting them for another two days. When I asked why, my 11 year old said, 'I'll tell you about it when I get home.”
Later that day my son told of starting up the trail and meeting hikers heading down who shared reports of high winds and warnings not to continue up the trail to camp. They even met a Park Ranger who told them not to continue uphill due to dangerous wind shears.
What caused those two trusted, experienced outdoors men to decide to disregard all those warnings and continue to climb Mt. Shasta still baffles me. They had children to think of!
They made camp midway up the trail and that night the wind came up and continued to build until they decided to all huddle up in one tent because they feared losing one or the other. That is exactly what happened. One tent blew off the mountain, but that wasn't the worst of the concerns. The wind shears were blowing boulders loose and sending them right through the camp.
My son told of hearing the wind start whistling at the top of the mountain, getting louder and louder and then hearing boulders coming down and praying that they would not get hit.
That is exactly what I saw in my “terrormare” the night before. They had pushed themselves up against the wall of the tent trying to hold the uphill side down against the force of the wind hoping and praying not to be hit by a boulder!
I will forever be grateful for being woken that night by what had to be God in order to intercede on behalf of my children and I do believe that it was by the grace of God that they escaped injury or worse that night.
You Have A Story To Share!
We are thankful to Oleta for sharing her story and we would love for you to share your own story of the work of God in your life--and people need to hear and be encouraged that God is alive and at work in our lives. Please share your story. You may not be a "writer," that's alright. We will help you tell it. Share your story at
1730pgccoffice@gmail.com.
