Last night, I was taken aback by all the photos and news coming from friends in the northeast.
Flooding in NYC. A friend who talked about the ravaged NJ coast. Pictures of water in subway systems and flooding at Ground Zero.
I’ve never lived through a hurricane, per se. I’ve lived all of my life inland, and the nearest I’ve come to hurricane is when the remnants of one has found its way into Middle Tennessee or wandered up into the heartland. But my brother hunkered down in Louisiana during Hurricane Katrina, so I know the fear of knowing someone you love is in the path of a storm.
And last night brought back all kinds of memories of that May several years ago when Nashville flooded. I know the fear of being safe, but knowing people all around your city are facing disaster. I know the aftermath of flooded homes and businesses and the months it takes to rebuild and clean up.
So, last night, I found myself praying for people facing disaster. Mostly people I don’t know. And I found myself praying for glimmers of hope, glimpses of the good God who uses all things for His glory—even in the storm, even in the flood.