#850Strong

The immediate days after Hurricane Michael were full of gut-wrenching photos and cries for help.  We may be struck down, but we won’t be destroyed.  Post 4 of the new year.

It’s coming up on 4 months. Not many days over 100 since lives were changed and homes destroyed. Less than one third of a year and, for thousands, their everyday lives instantly transformed into a horror show on October 10, 2018 when Hurricane Michael blew with all his might through Florida’s Panhandle.

Someone told me – “it’s their own fault, they should have evacuated.” To which I replied – “it didn’t matter whether they evacuated or not. Their houses were still blown to smithereens and their community was still decimated.” Being there or not being there had nothing to do with the amount of carnage that occurred.

When the wind blows and the trees fall and you’re suddenly cut off from all assistance, you begin to understand how frail you really are and how big and powerful God truly is.

The One who calms the storms also brings the storms. The One who heals our bodies, also takes our breath. “Our lives are but a vapor that appears for a little time, and then vanishes away.” (James 4:14) We know life is uncertain and sorrow and trouble will come. We know tough times don’t last, but tough people do. And we know that no matter how strong the wind or how high the waves, Jesus is with us whispering peace to our souls.

Putting the pieces back together and rebuilding is the new normal. Piles of debris are everywhere, with storefront signs still crumpled like tinfoil lying in abandoned parking lots, large tree limbs protruding from roofs, and blue tarps as far as the eye can see. Shuttered businesses and shuttered houses on every street.

As you drive across the Hathaway Bridge, a sense of sadness and mourning for what is no longer there seems to hover in the salt air.

It’s been a very rainy winter here. And it’s cold.

My house is warm and still standing. Many of my friends’ homes are severely damaged or completely gone. Clothes, keepsakes, memorabilia, family photos. Either blown away or covered in mold from the soaking rain. The things that made their homes enjoyable and traced the paths of their life journeys have disappeared forever.

And every single morning these hard working and hard loving regular folk get up, get dressed, take their kids to school, then go to work where they can, and do their best to make a new life amid the ruins of the old. They’re exhausted, newly homeless, and unsure of how to fix what’s been destroyed, but they keep putting one foot in front of the other, believing in their hearts that one day the rebuilding will be completed, and things will be even better than before. The photos from birthdays and weddings and vacations may be rain spotted and good only for the debris pile, but resilience is its own memory keeper.

I just read this quote without an author’s name: “Sometimes you have to let go of the picture of what you thought life would be like and learn to find joy in the story you’re living.”

This is #850 Strong. We will rebuild.