God in the eye of the storm
In the wake of hurricane Ian, many of us have friends or family members in the brutally affected areas in Florida. This monster storm devastated much of south and west central Florida recently. Like any tragedy, the adverse effects, which often seem distant and even somewhat unreal, become much more acute when someone we know suffers. Suddenly, the storm becomes “our storm,” too.
I have local friends of many years whose Florida home was nearly destroyed by this tempest. Like many snowbirds, Jim and Alice worked their entire lives, usually at two jobs, and saved to purchase a refuge, Alice’s “happy place,” on the west coast of the Sunshine state. They became a part of the community there, enjoying special moments with new friends and taking to the water on their new boat, which is now stuck on land.
Wisely, they left south Florida nearly a week before the hurricane came ashore, adventuring in Georgia until the storm passed. Like any of us, they never dreamed they would have so little to return to enjoy. Much of the roof of the house caved in, allowing dirty, debris-filled saltwater to flood the floors. Windows were blown apart, and their brand-new bedroom suit was smashed to pieces. Pieces of the home will never be located as they are likely miles away. Most flooring is nearly a foot deep in sludge, and an eerie odor fills the air.
Ian rocked the world of several million people, many like my friends. Years and years of dreams were dashed in a few hours, and tears flowed freely. It was several days until they could return to the devastation, and even when they did, there was nowhere else to stay within hours of their home. No repair supplies were available, so all they have been able to do is clean up a bit until they can return north and purchase materials to start the rebuilding process.
Life indeed delivers many storms, some far worse than others.
When something this serious confronts us, our first reaction is shock and even disbelief. No matter how hard we try not to be callous to others’ misfortune, our natural tendency is to unconsciously believe those kinds of tragedies only happen to other people. This thinking is just human nature, but it stokes the fires of shock when we come face to face with tragedy in our own backyard.
But that is only one side of the story. There is always a brighter tale that emerges from the ashes. The new story that unfolds reveals so many strengths of humanity and the power of a loving God.
A few streets over from my friend’s home lived a much older couple. She didn’t make it through alive. She and her husband had nowhere to go for refuge, no friends or relatives to give shelter, and no funds to rent a hotel room for a week or two. Ian trapped them, and the old gentleman now sits among the rubble alone.
Many folks in my friend’s neighborhood were more like this old couple. They were not snowbirds. This was their only home, and several didn’t make it out alive.
Jim and Alice soon realized they were blessed to have a home in Enola to which they could return. Thousands upon thousands do not.
My friends are about as handy as anyone could be, as they have remodeled numerous properties. They have the skills to rebuild; many don’t know a hammer from a spatula.
And what is a new bedroom suit compared to a life?
Their top priority was covering the roof with tarps somehow to keep more rain from ruining the home; it was not an easy job for two people. That is when volunteers from Samaritan’s Purse knocked on the door. “What is your greatest need, and how can we help?” was the question. The lady chatted, consoled my friend, and assured them they would return and help cover the home. After a few moments of comforting discussion, the Godly angels asked permission to pray with my friends. They circled and requested God’s mercy and assistance. Then the compassionate visitor looked Alice in the eyes and reassured her that as much as this hurt, everything would be okay. At that moment, a sense of peace first washed over the tearful homeowner. God had shown up when they needed Him most.
At one point, the couple noticed a lady and two little boys pulling a wagon down the street, stopping at each home as they progressed. They came to the front door, and the single mom and her two sons offered my friends peanut butter sandwiches they had lovingly created themselves. A single mom and her children providing what they had to ease others’ pain! How royal is that?!
My friends are not only proficient in the building trades but are part of a large family of brothers, all of whom do the same and have offered to help them rebuild. This is what family is all about, isn’t it?
Like a hurricane, nothing can stop the surge of hurt and pain when tragedy submerges our lives. Still, the storm always passes, and in the morning, the sun once again shines brightly, perhaps more brightly than ever before, to those who experienced the howling darkness of night.
Like Job who sat among the ashes of his former life, we might also proclaim, “But as for me, I know that my Redeemer lives, and he will stand upon the earth at last.”
And amid his pain, the Apostle Paul concluded, “17 For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
Live Inspired!
Don Mark
