Once again, childhood memories of sharing my birthday with yet another devastating hurricane resurfaced.
The rains came and the floodwaters rose, while we were out of town on vacation for my birthday week. My eldest daughter and Mom remained at the house with a generator. We received continued updates, videos, texts, and photos regarding the storm’s status, which left us unnerved and on edge. Thank God, for the report from home that offered a few moments of levity:
“OK Mom, we lost power.”
“Grandma is stuck in the Power Lift chair.”
“One fridge is out.”
“Pool in the back and in the front yard.”
“Water is about a foot within the house.”
“We are good so far.”
“Grandma is like, ‘You said we were gonna have ice cream at midnight …!'”
“No internet.”
“Water level is down.”
“Some water seepage, possible foundation issues due to flooding.”
“Was able to go for a quick gas run.”
“The Mayor of Houston has imposed a curfew … Grandma and I were gonna go out!”
“Electricity! Yay!”
Soon we’ll be headed back home, taking the routes with less flooding for travel. My heart and mind are filled with conflicting emotions. I am thankful to the Lord for watching over my loved ones, knowing that many lives were tragically impacted by this hurricane due to the flood waters. I also realize as hard as it is, losing stuff pales in comparison to losing loved ones. May we count our blessings – still having those safe and sound that means the most, well, everything else just seems petty.
My prayer: May our roots be grounded in faith strong enough not to be overwhelmed, even during the storms of life.

From the end of the earth will I cry to you, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. (Psalm 61:2)












Once we landed, it was she who became our guardian angel. While I retrieved our luggage, she stayed behind and waited patiently with Mark. When I returned, she volunteered to accompany me in fetching our rental car, even praying for a blessing over the remainder of our vacation. She walked with me back to where Mark was waiting, helped me load everything into the car, and politely waved goodbye to us. I truly felt she was an angel sent by God.
We were flooded with hugs, tears, and joy, and our bellies were full of my stepmother’s delicious Fricase de Pollo in no time. Due to all the medication my husband was on, he hadn’t had much of an appetite, but I was certain it would return with all the anticipated Puerto Rican cuisine.
The next day after a warm breakfast, we drove into Ft. Lauderdale to visit Big Brother, his wife, and their three strapping sons. While the
big boys played a game of chess, we gals went grocery shopping. When we returned, Mark was ready to call it a day. The pain from his ribs was causing him misery.
The anticipated meal did not disappoint.
Although quite tasty, the star entree wasn’t the pavo but the pernil, the traditional Puerto Rican pork shoulder. Not to be outdone, there were a couple of large pans of my stepmother’s delicious arroz con gandules. This was a Thanksgiving feast at its best! I believe we ate until we couldn’t eat another bite; hardly any room for dessert.

Dad: A son’s first hero. A daughter’s first love.













