I live in Michigan and Tuesday night we had the “mother” of all storms hit the area where we have our cabin. The warnings had been out all day so we moved everything off the bunkhouse porch and the cabin deck.
We kept watching the skies waiting for the storm to come. I looked out the back door and said to my husband, “You know, I don’t think the storm is going to hit us.”
I had no sooner said that than the wind blew so hard the trees in the woods bent almost to the ground. The rain came down so violently and so fast we thought the cabin might flood. You might remember we’ve just added a bedroom, pulled out the carpet and had laminate flooring put in. In fact, the day after the storm we were to paint all the paneling. I was so looking forward to getting that done.
We stayed in the middle room and hoped for the best. We could hear the branches hitting the metal roof. I was just waiting for a big tree to land right on top of it. It was all over in about fifteen minutes. No tree fell on either the cabin or my she-shed (formerly known as the bunkhouse except someone pointed out there are no bunk beds and it’s very feminine so it’s really a she-shed). There were trees that were down but they were at the perimeter of the woods.
The yard, however, is a mess! We’ve got some clean-up to do. But we couldn’t do it because we lost power which means we had to clean out the refrigerator and bring everything home. (We only live two hours away.) The power is not expected to get restored until late Friday. It was dark Wednesday morning so it was pretty hard to see what we were doing but we got the refrigerator cleaned out and headed home.
I should add, we always leave the cabin in pristine condition. Makes us feel good when we come back and see everything nice and clean. But not this time. Again, it was still storming and dark when we left.
The ride home was something else. It was like we were driving through a war zone. I’ve never seen so much damage. When we got to the first little town, there was even more destruction. This little town is one of the poorest in our state.
And this all brings me to my point.
I have a form of “survivor’s guilt”. I feel so guilty that we had no damage and even if we had, we would have been to have repaired. These people probably didn’t even have home insurance.
It’s hard, isn’t it?
It’s hard to see destruction up close and know that people are suffering. But I don’t try to avoid it. I purposely expose myself to the news about violence in the world. I know a lot of people avoid bad news but I guess I figure if I don’t know about it, how can I pray about it.
And, yes, I find it hard to know how to pray about something I’ve never experienced. But I trust God knows my heart. I also trust that my prayers are being heard and somehow make a difference.
Driving through the storm’s destruction reminded me of people in various parts of the world who deal with destruction every day. They drive through war-torn areas. Some are afraid to even walk down the street.
Women in the Congo live in fear that their young sons will be conscripted into a murderous regime. They fear their daughters and themselves will be raped.
And even people living in some parts of Chicago are fearful for their lives.
I can’t even imagine it. What it must feel like to be afraid for my safety and the safety of my loved ones.
It must be awful.
I didn’t intend this post to be this long. But driving through the storm damage really got to me and my mind just took me here.
If you’re heading out this weekend, please drive carefully. I hope you have a wonderful holiday.
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