Hope Blooms

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’re likely aware of the two hurricanes that recently slammed Florida. Now I’ve lived in Florida since the day I was born and have rarely witnessed the scale of devastation caused by first cat 3 Helene and then Milton, right on her coattails. Before we recovered from one, the other was upon us.

Our power came back on after three days, but many of us (even half our neighborhood) are still without power 5 days after Milton came ashore and since much of the electrical equipment and stations are flooded, it may be up to two weeks before folks can get a hot shower or even boil an egg. And although Fall is crisping up across the rest of the nation, we’re still sweating buckets down here by mid-afternoon.

Please forgive if I come across as whining – my intention is to share facts with you and humbly request your prayers for thousands of brothers and sisters who are homeless, hot, powerless, sleepless, and many who have lost nearly everything they have. Because we all know that prayer is the most and the least we can do for one another.

As I picked my way through the mountains of debris in my yard following the double header hurricanes, My tears were interrupted by the scene to your left. Among all the downed tree limbs and piles of moss and debris, bloomed a perfect pink rose. She didn’t seem to be affected by the destruction all around her. Her pinkness shone out like a beacon of light in a sea of brown and gray. It struck me as a symbol of hope amidst death, damage, and destruction.

Just when you think you can’t go another minute, Papa God sends hope that there will be another day and it will be better than this one. My granny always said that for believers, “Hope springs eternal!” and I find myself repeating her wise words decades later.

I thank you from the bottom of my heart, dearest BFFs (Blessed Friends Forever) for all the messages and prayers you’ve launched on my behalf. And please remind me to never take AC for granted again. We lost three trees, one atop my husband’s car (but thankfully it’s still driveable). But my daughter (whose family lives next door) had two grandfather oaks fall across her roof (and into her house via multiple puncture holes of eight-feet or more) and smashed one whole side of the house. Then of course, the deluge of rain accompanying Milton left indoor pools on the hardwood floors. The insurance adjuster called it a catastrophic loss and said they might have to demolish the whole house down to the foundation and rebuild. 

The silver lining is that they weren’t home at the time, and neither were their belongings. They were planning to sell the house – actually had a buyer waiting to make an offer on the day after the hurricane (which won’t happen now) – and had just moved the last of their furniture and belongings into storage.

So although they were devastated about the massive destruction, it could have been a lot worse. My three young grands could have been traumatized by every rainstorm for the rest of their lives if they had been there when the house came down on top of them. Instead, Papa God saw to it that they were snug and safe elsewhere.

It was one of those grace notes (my term for everyday miracles) that you don’t understand at the time, but you look back and see His fingerprints all over the situation.

Another grace note that happened yesterday: Spouse and I are feeling our age (he’s almost 70 and I’m … well, let’s just say I’m sweetly ripened) after shoveling, sweating, scraping, and piling debris for three days and I was taking a break with an ice pack on my newly replaced knee. I looked out the window and three beautiful angels wearing yard workmen earth suits carrying chainsaws and wheelbarrows came up to take over our massive clean-up. I was never so happy to see anyone in my life.

Now we have a 10-foot mountain of debris at our curb that we can’t see over, but I’m thankful that it’s not still spread all over the yard.

Many trees and power lines are still down in our community, another squashed house like my daughter’s is right down the street from hers, and streets and houses are flooded. Three lakeside houses in our subdivision alone are flooded and numerous streets are underwater. Please pray for your Southern neighbors and if you feel led, give to Samaritan’s Purse or another of the trustworthy agencies that are trying to physically help with the massive clean-up.

And during all this, my publisher (who doesn’t live in Florida and doesn’t seem to realize we’re a little busy down here) sent the work-in-progress manuscript of my new devotional (due out next year) back for first round edits. Yikes! So if you don’t mind, please say a little prayer that I can concentrate enough to get this done by the deadline next week.

Many thanks! Love, Deb