Sitting in the Storm

Seven years ago to the day (yesterday), Hurricane Katrina conquered the city of New Orleans and the surrounding Gulf Coast.  I know that I was in the first few weeks of my junior year of high school, but I could not tell you where I was or what I was doing or how devastated I felt when I found out about the destruction and tragedy that Katrina caused.  I knew it was bad and that there were a lot of people whose worlds were turned upside down on that day, but other than having something universal to talk about at school, my life remained entirely unaffected.  I continued to live my cozy Californian, upper-middle class lifestyle with the luxury of being able to choose to live my life in the same way I always had.

Now, seven years later, Hurricane Isaac has been born and is following in his sister's footsteps.  Although this time, I am forced to pay attention.  As of now, Isaac is still classified as "only" a tropical storm.  But the danger in Isaac lies in how slowly and unpredictably he moves.  Already, there are thousands of people out of power, families displaced from their homes, entire cities covered with water, buildings destroyed, people injured, and even one death as of this morning.  Reports say that Isaac is producing even more rainfall than Katrina.  And we sit in the midst of it, waiting for what is still to come.

picture from New Orleans

The town of Hazlehurst remains on the outskirts of the storm.  We have had nonstop rain and wind resulting in the demise of quite a few tree limbs and a power outage that has captured almost all of the Hazlehurst homes and businesses for various amounts of time.  My life has not been turned upside down, and destruction has not encompassed our lives here.  But with this being the second day of our "hurrication" aka no school, I am forced to sit in the storm and therefore feel intrinsically connected with the people whose lives have been turned upside down over the last few days.  We have been blessed with the opportunity to host 5 evacuees (2 of our friends who taught with us last year and three of their friends) from New Orleans since they were told to flee their homes on Monday.  They packed up whatever they considered to be necessities and left, completely unaware of the condition of their homes that they will be eventually returning to.

As I sit in my well-furnished home with the lights on and technology surrounding, I am reminded to remain in a place of uncircumstantial gratefulness.  I have experienced so many blessings during this hurrication.  I am thankful for a random Wednesday and Thursday off work, for good memories and conversations with friends, for walks and runs in the rain, breakfast at Waffle House, cookie dough, pizza, puzzles, lights, and technology.  I have an abundant excess of gifts.  But mostly, I am grateful for the hope in my heart and for the reassurance that if all of that was taken away from me (as it is fated to be at some point), I would still be singing praises of grace and mercy and love.  This hurricane is such a powerful reminder of the LORD's strength and dominance in this world.  And while there are no rainbows in the sky, I can't help but be reminded of God's covenant with Noah and the promise to never again flood the earth because of the faithfulness of one man.  I believe that the power of natural destruction is intended to point us back to our creator who desires for all of us to be saved and whose heart breaks when we turn away from him.

 There is no explanation for destructive storms like this, but amidst the tragedy and questions and confusion, I choose to trust in the LORD.  The LORD who has the power to stop a storm with His whisper.  The LORD who lives and sits in this storm with us, never abandoning us. God does not always stop the storm; sometimes He sits in it with us.  And I will choose to remain grateful.