It seems this is how I process life. On pen and paper. Or in this case, clicking away at my keyboard. Taking all the confusion muddled in my head and heart and putting it into words on paper. Will these be legible or coherent? I'm not sure. What I do know is that if I hold them in, my chest may burst from the pressure.
Where do I start? Here I sit in my home, untouched yet completely affected by the horrors of this last week. As Hurricane Helene pummeled the East Coast of the United States, my hometown of St. Petersburg, FL found itself underwater. The surrounding areas and beaches were demolished by a storm surge we have yet to see in this area in over a century. And we were just the beginning. There are no words and yet so many.
The putrid smell of seawater hangs in the air. The silence after the storm is deafening, broken by the sirens of first responders trying to get to people trapped in their homes. As the morning comes, and the storm moves on you look around to assess the damage. Right now, life seems to stand still, while simultaneously the world moves forward, leaving devastation and heartache in its wake.
God, you have somehow spared me from the physical hard, but as I look around, the destruction on every street ravages my heart. The tangible damage to all those around me is a picture of my insides. Torn to shreds and hanging on for dear life. With rubble and rubbish everywhere, my heart is jumbled with fear, overwhelm, heartache, gratitude, and sorrow. A juxtaposition of faith and fear, or more possibly gratitude and guilt all mushed into one giant pot of mess.
Faith in a God who saves and who heals and who I know is present for each of us right now. Fear for those who have lost everything and families who have been ripped apart. Gratitude for the comfort of my home and the safety of my family yet guilt for being so close to devastation and yet remain intact.
My hometown, the only home I've ever really known torn to pieces and buried in sea, sand, and sludge. Neighbors in North Carolina, a place near and dear to my heart, desolated beyond recognition. Sorrow and dismay hang heavy in towns that have seemed to be erased from the map. Homes, cars, and lives swept away with the floodwaters. I have to ask again, why me? Why us? Why would we be spared while so many others endure unimaginable horrors and tragedy? I am not worthy of such grace or kindness; so I will open my home. Open my heart and share God's goodness every chance I get. Starting right here.
There is no other reason I can manage except to share the utter truth that:
the Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." (Psalm 34:18)
No matter what it is you are facing today, nothing is too big (or too small) for our God. We may not understand this circumstance, but we can hold on to is His presence and the hope that only comes from Him.
Are you brokenhearted? Are you crushed in spirit? Me too. But I am not without hope and somehow beyond my own comprehension, there is a sense of peace. Knowing the God of creation is here, and He is working. In ways beyond our understanding. He is not absent or idle, but rather continues to draw near in our pain.
Cling to that today, dear one. Hang on! Not to the shifting, unstable sands or clay of this earth, but to the unchanging, durable, eternal hands of our Heavenly Father. He is walking with you, upholding you, and His presence provides the powerful, unexplainable peace that only comes from Him. Let His solid arms be the place you rest today.
Love you, friends!
Here are some resources for where you can help those in need right now:
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