Editor's Note - This is my current column for The Examiner, published in Beaumont, Texas.
Please forgive me if my column today is a little more personal than usual. When my editor and publisher asked me to write a story of encouragement and help for folks dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Ike on our area, I thought, “Sure, piece of cake. That is what I do. Been doing it for years.”
But I soon realized that I had to draw upon the deep recesses of my heart and soul to put words on paper describing the brutal truth of the matter and to express honestly the thoughts churning so vividly inside my own being. Perhaps a little background is in order here.
My mother, Flo Davis, suffered a massive stroke on Wednesday evening, August 13 after eating dinner with one of her close buddies and attending prayer meeting. She was rushed to the trauma unit of CHRISTUS St. Elizabeth Hospital in Beaumont and the family members and church friends began to gather for a long vigil in the surrounding waiting rooms. We were told that Mother had suffered the stroke, additional seizures and that she likely would not survive more than six or eight hours. As we stood near her bed, we watched in amazement as she fought and survived that night.
The next day our family was advised that not only had she had the massive stroke and the continued seizures, she had also had a heart attack and since she was 86 years old, there really was nothing more to be done. She had a strong living will and a DNR order on file and so we said our goodbyes in different ways and at different times. On Sunday our team of physicians came in and said that the final test had revealed a growing cancerous brain tumor, stage 4, that had likely caused the stroke and the seizures. We discussed hospice care and placed Mother into that program on Monday. She lived 13 days and nights without one drop of water and one bite of food as we watched, prayed and tried to remain strong. Watching her die was not an easy chore and she was a strong woman.
Being of sturdy stock and a compelling nature, Mother lived 19 minutes into her 87th birthday and went home to be with the Lord and her husband, mother, father and other family members and friends. I rather think she did it like she wanted to do it — making it until that birthday milestone. We planned a memorial service at my son’s church in Groves and while we were conducting that funeral, we learned we were under mandatory evacuation for Hurricane Gustav. As we left the church, workers were placing sandbags around the doors of the building.
We drove on to the Atlanta area where Mother spent the majority of her life and had a second memorial service there on Sept. 3. As my husband and I were making our way home to Texas after the service and taking care of some of Mother’s business and going through personal effects, we learned that another major storm was heading for the Southeast Texas coast and that we would be under a second mandatory evacuation from our home in Port Bolivar. We were never allowed back to our property and only had with us the clothing we took for the funeral and my nephew’s wedding, which followed on September 6. Hurricane Ike slammed into the Peninsula we had come to love and called home since our marriage, and for four days and nights, we did not know if we had a home or any possessions at all. Waiting it out to confirm or deny our thoughts was a most difficult time. On Wednesday, Sept. 17, Ted and I flew in a small, chartered plane over Bolivar Peninsula and confirmed what some aerial photographs had shown us. Not one shred of our home was standing and not one piece of our belongings — a book, a piece of jewelry, dishes, photographs, wedding album, tools, lawn mower, furniture was evident. It looks as though a giant machine swept the area clean in many areas and flung the contents out to the beautiful blue-green sea.
A slight wind was blowing from the north and the seascape was picturesque. The landscape, however, was quite a different story. Homes and businesses are gone, the Rollover Ferry bridge has been destroyed except for one lane that is partially there, and the Galveston-Bolivar Ferry landings have been breached. Friends and neighbors appear to be missing and there are widespread rumors of hurtful situations. Little information has been forthcoming about when residents may be allowed back onto the Peninsula to look for any of their belongings and we wait in areas without water and power.
As I drove into my sister-in-law’s home in Bevil Oaks, I saw a big, old oak tree that the storm had taken down here. The inside was quite hollow and you could literally see through the massive trunk. I thought for a moment, “That’s how my heart feels. Hollow. Empty. Open and vulnerable. Useless.” For a woman to be without clothes, jewelry and shoes and her photographs of a lifetime is almost unthinkable, but for me, the loss of my books is cause for deep pain. My office equipment where I wrote is gone. My children’s gifts have vanished. I cried over a particular seashell that I dearly loved.
In my overwhelming grief, I began to think. “Do I believe what I have declared and taught for a lifetime? Is God really on His throne? Does He know my heart, as well as those of many of my dear friends and neighbors, hurts? Does He know what His plan is for our lives and will He be there to help guide us through it?” Thank God, I know in my heart of hearts, He does, but I found myself physically tired, discouraged and bereft.
While in Atlanta, another of my sister-in-laws asked me to go and buy a particular book and read it and then let her know what I thought. For some reason, I took the time, went to a busy Atlanta area bookstore and bought “The Shack” by Wm. Paul Young. I was entranced and read every word of it in one sitting. I have now read it a second time and I do not know what you may believe about the writing, but it helped me more than I can say. I needed to be reminded of the personal relationship human beings can have with God the Father, Jesus, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I gleaned from the many writers of the past that Young quoted and found myself clinging to their words just as surely as neighbors of mine clung to pieces of wood as they floated on Ike’s raging waters.
Let me share just a few of the outstanding quotes, which have helped to hold my personal anchor in place the past few days. Mack, the central character in “The Shack” had experienced “The Great Sadness” in his life and was forced to learn to rely on his personal relationship with God. He said, “Two roads diverged in the middle of my life, I heard a wise man say. I took the road less traveled by and that’s made the difference every night and every day.” - Larry Norman with apologies to Robert Frost. In Chapter 8 of “The Shack,” Young quotes an unknown writer: “Growth means change and change involves risk, stepping from the known to the unknown.” “New world — big horizon. Open your eyes and see it’s true. New world — across the frightening waves of blue.” - David Wilcox. “Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of truth and knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the gods.” – Albert Einstein. “Oh, my soul…be prepared for Him who knows how to ask questions.” - T. S. Eliot. And, one of my personal favorites in the book, “God is a verb,” a quote from Buckminster Fuller.
Mack had many struggles to overcome in his search for truth and in one place he was told, “You can kiss your family and friends goodbye and put miles between you, but at the same time, you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world, but a world lives in you.” - Frederick Buechner. I am learning that this is also true of possessions and the “things” of life. You can keep them through your memories and by remembering those that gave them to you in the first place.
A. W. Tozer, one of my favorite writers of the past, is also included in “The Shack.” Here, he writes, “An infinite God can give all of Himself to each of His children. He does not distribute Himself that each may have a part, but to each one He gives all of Himself as fully as if there were no others.” God loves you and He loves me as if we were the only children He had. We humans tend to limit Him so much because we are human. We are reminded that “earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.”
As I walked about the branches of the dead oak tree today, I chanced to see something growing on one of the branches. I reached down and looked more closely. There I found several little healthy looking acorns resting quietly as if nothing had happened to disturb their world. They appeared to me to be at perfect peace. I picked one for myself (the tree is going to be cut up and taken away today), one for my husband and one for each of my children and grandchildren, and I put them in my pocket. As I have worked today, I am claiming a wonderful new experience called life for each of us, and the tiny acorns are my personal symbols of hope. I needed something tangible to touch and feel. Things can be replaced — people cannot. I can get new shoes, new clothing and some other books and my life will be brighter, more productive and happier than ever before, if (big if, here) I allow God to make it so.
As an added bonus, (just like God to do this for His children) as I was walking toward our RV parked in Bill and Martha’s branch littered yard, I looked for her wonderful, old gardenia bush. Much of it was crumbled in disarray from Ike’s powerful wind, but as I picked up some of the branches, I saw one beautiful, creamy white gardenia bloom nestled amidst the brokenness. I carefully and tenderly broke it off and brought it inside with me to share its fragrance and hope throughout our lives. It reminded me, as Mack learned, God is indeed still on His throne and He does care for us. (I Peter 5:7) It is up to His children to learn to trust Him completely, even when we don’t understand, and walk by faith in His ways making certain our relationships with those around us are ones He can be pleased with for all eternity. He is good and He is always God. Be encouraged.
.jpg)
