Forty years ago today, May 18, 1980, I was sitting in the congregation of Trinity Episcopal Church in Tacoma, WA at 8:30 a.m. We heard a blast like a jet breaking the sound barrier. The earth shook, but the priest had just started consecrating the elements (bread and wine) for the communion service. He did not stop the ceremony. Only after the service was completed and we entered the fellowship hall did we learn that Mt. St. Helens had erupted. It was the most violent and deadly eruption that had ever occurred in the U. S.

Within a short time, we left the church and all headed to our homes. The ash obliterated the sun, but we were fortunate in Tacoma when the wind shifted and sent most of the ash plumb south and east. The evening news showed film of the ash plumb and areas east of the mountain that were piled high with ash covering everything. In some areas it was not just inches but a couple of feet thick.

Not only will I never forget experiencing the eruption of Mt. St. Helens on May 18, 1980. It was also my mother’s birthday. She would have been 70 years old on that day, but she died in 1974. God bless you, Mom, and those who died in that massive explosion.