A Mighty Wind

Having gone through Hurricane Hugo in Charleston, SC and Super Typhoon Pamela on Guam in the Marianas I know the destructive violence of hurricanes and typhoons is heart rending. I know the horror that follows the terror and the depression that follows that. Hugo was a late season storm and the twisted, broken trees and battered shrubs were a constant reminder of destruction. It seemed as though things would never be the same ever again. They weren't, but gradually, as spring approached and the green started to return, spirits lifted and the sun started to shine inside ever so faintly. From that point the true recovery began. The refuse pyres burned night and day for months on end reducing to ashes plans, dreams, comforts, keepsakes, heirlooms and memories. The dark smudge in the sky a constant, grim reminder of the time before the storm.

To be able to flip a switch and have instant light was no longer an act to be taken for granted. A hot bath became almost a sacred ritual performed with respect. The return of full shelves at stores was viewed as the American miracle it is. Each new leaf became a healing balm and took on a spectacular grandeur with the power to wrest the human spirit from the lingering, tenacious grip of the storm. The sounds of construction and the sparkling freshness of new paint came to replace the shattering shriek of destruction and the uniform mud color of the landscape. Nightmares became just bad dreams and then faded. Time passed and new structures replaced the old in memory and then one day, quite suddenly, life again seemed normal. Backyard barbecues were no longer a thing of urgency or necessity, but a gathering of friends once more.

Though it won't be today, for the victims of Hurricane Ike it will be sooner than they can even hope for now. The phoenix will rise.

Please keep them in your prayers.