This article was originally published in the Lynn Haven Ledger/Gulf Coast Gazette, September 2017 after Hurricane Irma in Faith and Inspiration.
Years ago I had an elderly friend from Alabama. I grew up in Michigan, so her euphemisms were cute and, usually, right to the point. If I were going to say to you right now, hey, would you like me to tell you about Harvey and Irma and how neighbors helped neighbors and strangers helped strangers?
She would say – “That’s what I KNOW!”
So, yeah, that’s exactly what you already know.
I’ve been re-reading one of my favorite books over the past few days. We’ll it’s actually two books. The first book followed by the sequel. The first book ends on a heightened note of destruction and despair, leaving you with dropped jaw and tears in your eyes, and the second book ends on a note of hope and deliverance, giving you that warm, fuzzy feeling most of us enjoy. These are the stories I love to read about. Stories with, if not a happy ending, one full of hope for the future.
And that’s what happened with Harvey and Irma. The hurricanes, after finally blowing themselves out, ended their stories on a note of destruction and despair, and now we’re just beginning the sequel that is full of hope and deliverance.
For example, fishing boats with regular guys searching the flooded streets of Houston for the stranded and bedraggled in need of rescuing. First responders driving up and down the streets before the storm sounding the alarm. Helicopters hovering over flooded houses, lowering life-saving ropes to waiting hands and terrified hearts. Convoys arriving with much needed food and water, blankets and medicine. Everyday people grilling hotdogs on the side of I-75, handing out the food for free to evacuees heading for safety.
Homes and businesses destroyed, the newly homeless surveying the damage and wondering when and if they will ever be whole again.
My Facebook feed was filled with expressions of encouragement, prayers lifted, and offers of help.
And to top it off, today is September 11th. Remembering the day we lost almost 3,000 of our fellow Americans in three terrorist attacks. And on a personal note, yesterday was the first anniversary of my momma’s death. We’re feeling a little battered and beat up today, aren’t we?
It’s raining outside as I sit at my dining room table typing this article. We could think of the rain as symbolic of the tears cried for the lives and property lost. We could think of it as symbolic of God washing everything clean, like a new start.
One Facebook post I read went something like this: Instead of praying for me, why don’t you actually give me what I need?
Most of the commenters responded with statements like: Yeah, people only pray to make themselves feel better.
Which made me sad, so I responded that, yes, I believe prayer is very powerful, but I also believe that when you see someone in need, you don’t need to pray about it, just provide it. Which opened up a whole discussion about prayer and whether it’s really effective or not.
Well, I’m not a theologian, so all I could tell them was that I know prayer is powerful because I’ve experienced God’s intervention many times and encouraged them to talk to God themselves.
But you know what? It seemed like I was beating my head against a wall with my words. Tragedy breaks us and re-shapes us. It’s up to us to decide what we’re being re-shaped into. We can look at coming destruction and pray, or we can shake our fist at God in anger.
One thing is certain, though. The sequels filled with hope and deliverance overcoming all odds are the best stories and the ones we remember most, and the ones we re-read over and over again, especially when our hearts fall down.
The books I’m re-reading feature the Bushmen of South Africa, and other tribes of many years ago. The Bushmen have a rich history full of stories passed down from generation to generation, and their way of speaking is beautifully poetic. They have a connection with the earth and living things because of their nomad way of life, and they understand the cycle of life and death. At the end of the first book, Xhabbo, the Bushman friend, was giving comfort to Nonnie, whose father had been brutally killed, along with scores of others.
“Xhabbo knew that the stars who hide in light as other things hide in darkness were there to see all today. For the stars do fall in this manner when our hearts fall down. The time when the stars also fall down is while the stars feel that our hearts fall over, because those who had been walking upright, leaving their footprints in the sand, have fallen over on to their sides. Therefore the stars fall down on account of them, knowing the time when men die and that they must, falling, go to tell other people that a bad thing has happened at another place.” ( A Story Like the Wind, by Laurens Van Der Post)
Even though we can’t see the stars for the clouds and rain, God, who made the stars and the clouds and even the hurricanes, sees all, and loves us. And I know that he is pleased to see his children being neighbors to those in need, no matter their station in life.
As Jesus said, the second greatest commandment is this – to love your neighbor as yourself.
The beautiful and uplifting stories being written in the aftermath of Harvey and Irma will be told and re-told for years to come, bringing encouragement and strength to our hearts when they fall down, reminding us that life, though difficult, is full of light and love and hope.