After the Storm

     Over the past week, many of us in the southeastern quadrant of the country watched Hurricane Isaac make its way through the Gulf. Even though I'm not on the coast anymore, growing up in Florida, I'm hardwired to keep alert of dangerous weather. Less than a week since the twenty year anniversary of Hurricane Andrew, I took some time to think about the event and its aftermath.
     I don't think there is anyone who was living in South Florida at that time who doesn't remember vividly the night Andrew made landfall. The center of the storm was headed straight for our area, but made a last minute jog south and hit Homestead, FL. My family stayed up together in one room, watching a small battery powered television. My sister and I had leaks in our windows, our chimney suffered damage, but we made it out okay. For those further south, much more was lost. The damage done over that one night took years to repair. Looking back now, I can't help but see how one storm changed the course of my own history.
     That winter, my church youth group was supposed to go to skiing. Instead, we housed a group our age from Michigan and together we spent a week in Homestead working with displaced migrant families and repairing damaged homes. My first experience in the mission field prepared my heart for the future. It was a springboard for more local mission work as well as my involvement in global missions as an adult. Now, I'm not saying I wouldn't have a heart for missions if Andrew hadn't hit South Florida. God always provides a way to where He wants us. But the storm shaped my path.
     It also brought me one of my dearest friends. Andrew hit the weekend before my first day of high school. Afterwards, schools in surrounding areas saw an influx of students who were displaced from Homestead. One boy and his family made the move to our district and we became friends. We've remained so ever since. We attended college together and I'd often give him a ride home for holidays. My mom always felt better about those trips with him in the car. When I went through my first break up, he was there to make me laugh again. We kept in touch after college and now he is a family friend. My children call him uncle. If Andrew hadn't hit we may have never met.
     Another uprooted family moved in down the street from mine. At the time, their son was four and their daughter barely a year. I became their Saturday night babysitter. For the first year, I often had to stay with A until he was nearly asleep because he was afraid another hurricane would come in the night. I watched him grow out of that. I also watched him grow into a caring, intelligent kid. When his sister J was around 3, she had to have surgery. I went over to see her and several local family members were there. She started crying and her grandmothers went to her side. But she was calling for me. I realized that to this little girl, I was part of her family. Moments like this have prompted me as a parent to create a community for my children that extends beyond biological ties; to put people in their lives that will comfort and shape them. One of my top priorities when I was pregnant with AP was to find a babysitter. Leaving your children with people you trust has benefits for the children as well as for the foundation of a family - the marriage. My husband and I still get to date, and that is invaluable. 
     I do want to point out that I did not live through the destruction of my home. I never had to leave my possessions and hope everything was okay when I was allowed to return. I didn't see all my memories destroyed by wind and water. I am not trying to say that a hurricane is a good thing. What I am saying is that in life we will encounter storms of all kinds. Some are bigger than others. Out of them, we learn, we grow, we are changed. I am reminded of Deuteronomy 31:8, which says "The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." During Andrew, God was still there. He was working in the midst of the madness. Twenty years later, the beautiful results in my life remain.