Coffee in hand, I opened the door to our small screened in porch. There, a cool breeze invited me into the day. As I woke, it hit me... the hurricane.
I raced inside, grabbed my phone, and then settled back on the porch where I perused numerous news sites. As birds sang and leaves rustled in the wind, I was undone by the scope of the devastation.
Unable to process the massive upheaval, I even spent time watching The Weather Channel this evening. Normally annoyed by their reporter's hype, Don and I sat mesmerized. At one point, he gasped, “I know that intersection.”
Having lived close to Houston, the flooded familiar landscape made the event more real to him. And after seeing several Facebook posts throughout the day, it's obvious that many care deeply about someone there.
My nephew and his wife live outside of Houston, and a dear college roommate in Corpus Christi. The ties are deep and unsettling.
Stuck in his home with growing unease, a young father, Jeremiah J. Johnston, asked how he was expected to get his five children—three of them babies—onto the roof if necessary. Would they run out of formula? Water?
Knowing his story represents countless others, none of us knows how to absorb that an entire metropolis has fallen to its knees—again. Because one day, it could be us. One day, our lives could totally turn upside down.
As we watched the news tonight, I asked Don, "What would we do if that happened to us?"
"Assuming the second floor stayed dry, we would move up there, taking everything with us. Then we would pull down the sheet rock to let the house dry…"
I don’t remember what was next. But basically, we would turn back the clock to a different age and time—and rebuild. Start over. Trust big.
Made with resilience, calamity often brings out the best in humanity. Or at least it can. As rescue efforts continue with people joining in from all over, the resulting beautiful coming together trumps politics and race.
Steeped in desperation, Houston stirs as one lump of humanity in urgent need of each other. And that urgency will lead many down unusual paths of togetherness.
Thrust far from routine and norm, life will take on new meaning. Hopefully, a deeper meaning. Less fraught with frivolous worry.
But still, I don’t wish it on anyone.
So, what do we do?
Pray for that togetherness. For a deep healing to begin in the lives of the broken. For neighbors to reach out. And for the hurting to see tangible hope.
And then let's live our day with greater appreciation and peace right where we are, relishing what we’ve been given.
The constant live streaming easily lends itself to angst. So, don't buy in. Pray. Do what you can. Then, spend some quality time just thanking God for the roof over your head, the food you ate yesterday, and for the suffering that waters our souls and helps us grow.
"Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you. I've called your name. You're mine. When you're in over your head, I'll be there with you. When you're in rough waters, you will not go down" (Isaiah 43: 2 MSG).
All photos courtesy of pixabay.com
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