In the Midst of the Storm

Hurricane Cleo struck Miami with 100-mile-per-hour winds in late August 1964. Fallen branches and debris flew across the yard. Pelting rain rattled against our old wooden door and thin, sheet-glass windows.

My stepdad, Jimmy, placed a dresser against the front door of our efficiency apartment to keep it from flying open. Mama and I hunkered down in the dark bathroom like cornered animals. I sat on the floor with my knees pulled up, covering my ears with my hands, trying to drown out the deafening gusts of wind. Mama’s panicked cries filled the air, too.

As I closed my eyes, thoughts tumbled through my mind.

Gosh, today is my birthday.

I am five years old.

Mama said I’m a “big girl” now.

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Five years later, in 1969, Hurricane Camille threatened South Florida just ten days before my tenth birthday. We took the warnings seriously and headed to Miami Edison High School for shelter.

My stepdad, Mama, and I took shelter in the gymnasium of Miami Edison High School. People talked in loud voices. Confused and frightened children fussed and cried. They clung to their mamas’ skirts and their daddies’ necks as everyone waited out the storm.

I sat on a floor mat, glancing around. I clutched my raggedy doll and our meager provisions in a sack. Inside were a single loaf of Wonder Bread and a jar of Welch’s Grape Jelly.

When my stepdad suggested that I offer some to another girl nearby, I recoiled.

You see, even in normal times, sharing food wasn’t so easy for me.

Comfort and tranquility were as far away as the moon. Outside, the storm raged, tearing at homes and scattering shingles and debris.

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Those are excerpts from my memoir, Running on Heels: A Memoir of Grit & Grace.

Even after all these years, I still get a bit skittish during rainstorms, let alone hurricanes.

Me no like them.

And as you can see, I have never liked them.

Today, as I watch the National Hurricane Center tracking not one but two storms brewing in the Gulf of Mexico, those childhood memories come rushing back.

What happens when two storms get close enough to interact? Can they begin rotating around one another and possibly merge?

That dance is known as the Fujiwhara effect. Who knew hurricanes could do the Texas Two-Step? Go figure!

But behind the science and the forecasts are real people, people whose lives can be turned upside down by wind, rain, flooding, and fear.

My heart and prayers go out to all those affected by these storms, whatever kind of storm they may be facing: sickness, trials, trouble, distress, turmoil, heartache, or pressure.

This is not easy for everyone—me included.

But may I encourage you to allow God to give you peace in the midst of the storm.

I am reminded of what Scripture says:

Isaiah 26:3–4

“Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You; because he trusts in You. Trust in the Lord forever: for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength.”

May we all find that perfect peace, even when the wind is howling outside.