Their Desired Haven

We've been in West Virginia now for two nights and are settling in. I decided to evacuate from Hurricane Florence early on, and Adam agreed later. We drove up separately on Tuesday, each with two dogs. West Virginia feels safe and far from the devastating storm.

This morning at last I sat down to read my Bible a little. Daily routines are difficult to maintain during times of great stress. The hurricane is very large and strong; our county has a mandatory evacuation. It's likely our property and house will flood. The last couple of days there, I silently said good-bye to so many little things -- not the house so much, because we've moved about 15 times in 29 years -- but little items that I've carried with me through those years. Tea cups. My popcorn maker. My old trunk. My wedding dress. Art work and photographs. Good-bye. I'd be saying good-bye to them sometime in the next 30 years anyway. It's good to get a practice run in. God is wise.

I wanted to read from the psalms because David understands anxiety and fear so well -- running from the storms of life. On my way to Psalm 32 ("You are my hiding place ..."), my eye stumbled on Psalm 107. God often leads me to the Scripture I really need. Here it is:

"Those who go down to the sea in ships, 

who do business on great waters,

they have seen the works of the LORD,

And His wonders in the deep. 

For He spoke and raised up a stormy wind,

Which lifted up the waves of the sea.

They rose up to the heavens, and they went down to the depths.

Their soul melted away in their misery ...

Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble,

And He brought them out of their distresses.

He caused the storm to be still,

So that the waves of the sea were hushed.

Then they were glad because they were quiet;

So He guided them to their desired haven.

Let them give thanks to the LORD for His lovingkindness,

And for His wonders to the sons of men!"

This morning when I checked the weather models at 6:00 it seems that maybe the outlook for our house was slightly improved, less probability of surge through our floorboards, slightly less rain to flood the property. This is good.

But God is good either way. He can "cause the storm to be still." But He can also destroy our home. He is good either way. His afflictions are designed for our good as much as His blessings are. The last destroying hurricane in Pamlico County transformed our community (as disasters often do), drawing neighbors together, forging bonds of help and love, causing some to be tender to the needs of others, letting everyone see the wonder of rescue workers -- and perhaps helping us all to hold onto our worldly possessions a little more lightly. It would be better if we did and learned these things without the assistance of hurricanes.

We don't know what we'll find when we return home after this storm. It's set to make landfall tonight. Please pray for those who stayed (many did) and will suffer through the screaming winds, the crashing trees, the rising water.

I'm glad to be in my desired haven. Thank you, Lord, for kind family and beautiful mountains. 

 When Adam drove on Tuesday, he caravaned with Dave, a 90-year-old friend who also needed to evacuate with his car and his cat. Dave has been a trooper, coming to a strange place and staying with people he doesn't know.

 My mother has a sweet, loving new corgi, Bonnie.

A pretty kitty adopted her front porch. Mother's calling her Clyde.

Ned and Baby are staying in a pasture by my mother's house. They are not happy. Adam sits with them.

This is my sister-in-law's kitchen. I hope she doesn't mind my posting this :) It's another place that is so peaceful to me. How many hours have I spent here, chatting with her and my brother about life's ups and downs? She has such a gift of hospitality and has welcomed us to her kitchen with warm bread and farm-fresh veggies, fruit pies and fresh milk, many, many times. We've packed this kitchen with teenagers who are now elsewhere, but the love and welcome remain.

Pray for all of us as we return next week to begin piecing our lives back together.