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At Peace
At peace…..
What does one mean by that expression? Within the past few minutes
I uttered those two words to my older son who is about a hundred miles
away from me. He is that much closer to the area where Hurricane
Rita will be making landfall along the Texas Coast. I am
sitting on a high hill in a rural area of east Texas where I am taking
refuge from the storm. On the advice of David, my younger son, who
is active in the emergency management program for our county, I came
here at mid-day Thursday. Early yesterday he arrived at my
home and told me it had been decided that our family members needed to
evacuate our homes. I was in tears at these words for I had never
left my home before in the face of an approaching storm or other danger.
Sixty-seven years I had lived in the same little town, never
experiencing enough danger to make me feel the need to leave my home.
Absolute terror struck when I
realized he was indicating he and Don, his older brother, would
remain behind. Mothers are not supposed to leave their children
behind in harm’s way. He was not speaking to me as just my son, but
as a person in authority who knew what was best for me, for his
sister and her family of four. With tears streaming down my face, I
replied, “But, I don’t want to go! And, where would I
go?” All my immediate family lives within a few miles of me…..all
in the path of the hurricane.
Don said we should call some of our cousins in
Pearson Chapel. We tried two phone numbers, with no answer. Then
he called Mary and Robert, cousins of my husband, and told them that
he was looking for a place for his momma to ride out the storm.
They explained that there were already a number of people coming
from the Houston area to their home, but I could come there, too.
In the back of my mind, I was thinking that when I got to their
home, I could call one of the other cousins who lives in Pearson
Chapel and seek refuge with them if Robert’s home was too crowded.
I would find that when I arrived at the little home on the hill, I
would feel so welcome and at home, there was never a thought of
going anywhere else.
David told me to prepare to leave
quickly. Don would be at my home in about an hour to take me to my
“refuge”. As usual my computer was on and connected to the Internet
where I was checking my daily emails. I hurried to turn it off, but
before I did I sent a short note to Oasis, the administrator of the
Christian chat room where I visit each night. In the room I
sometimes help by keeping the conversation going. I told him
about my need to evacuate, telling him I did not know how long I
would be gone….and if, in fact, I would even have a home to which I
could return. (Remember Hurricane Rita is still on a course that
looked as though she would be traveling up IH45 right behind the
thousands of people fleeing from her. And my home was sitting right
in her path.) A couple of hours after I sent the email to Oasis, he
replied with these words, “The storm is drift.” I would not see
this message until about five days later when our electrical power
and Internet service were restored. He was right; the storm did
drift to the east, thereby saving our area from the brunt of the
hurricane.
When David had told me to prepare
to leave my home, did I go to my closet and pick out clothing to
take with me? Or to the bathroom to pack my toiletries? No, I went
to what we call the computer room where all my genealogy records are
kept. The night before when the news media was telling of the
impending approach of Rita, I had packed a lot of my work in boxes
and heavy plastic storage bags. Not only genealogy data, but photos
and much of my writing. When all these had been carried to the
living room, ready to be loaded in the car, I went to my bedroom and
hurriedly grabbed some articles of clothing. Since this was still
“summer” weather in Texas, I chose several pairs of shorts and some
jeans, along with a number of cotton T-shirts. A couple of pair of
sneakers, some socks and underwear completed my wardrobe. Because
three of the T-shirts I had grabbed off their hangers and rolled to
be placed in my luggage had road maps on them, they would become the
subject of conversation at breakfast a few days later. Two of the
shirts had Texas road maps, while the third one sported a road map
of the state of Alabama. No, I’ve never been to Alabama, but I have
two good friends who live there.
Don arrived at the appointed time to assist me
with the loading of all the things I had chosen to take with me.
This included one bag with my clothing and the fore-mentioned large
boxes of genealogy binders. I said goodbye to my cat, stroking her
soft fuzzy coat, while I told her I loved her and she would be in
the Lord’s care while I was away. Don asked if I were going to take
her with me. “No,” I said, “the cat must remain behind just as my
sons will remain here.” She has never been in a carrying cage and
I knew that she would have to remain in a cage while we were away.
I could not do that to her. I just trusted the Lord to care for her
while I was away. Don assured me he would keep an eye on her for
me. This was comforting to me and I knew he was doing it out of his
love for his mom because he does not like cats!
With all my things loaded, we began the trek
to my sanctuary in Houston County, Texas. Just as we pulled out of
my driveway, I took one more look at my little home…..the one where
my children had grown up, where my now deceased husband and I had
spent so many happy hours…..for I did not know if it would be there
when I returned. I breathed a prayer to my heavenly Father, asking
his watch care over it, as well as granting us safe passage to my
destination.
The trip took much longer than it ordinarily
does because of the many other people heading north, hoping to
remove themselves from the path of the category five hurricane
bearing down upon us. Although I had traveled this road many times
in the last fifty years, never had I felt such dread. I, who never
stays away from home unless illness requires it, was now on my way
to a relative’s home for an undetermined length of time. During
that drive, I talked to the Lord a lot, thanking him that I had
somewhere to go, transportation to get me there, and a loving family
that was looking out for me.
When Don and I arrived at my sanctuary, Robert
was outside making preparations in case the strong winds reached
that far inland. Plants in pots and hanging baskets of flowers were
being loaded onto his trailer which would be parked inside the barn
to protect the plants. Mary was busy inside the house preparing
food for those evacuees they were expecting, a task that kept her
busy for the next several days.
Other family members would arrive the next
day….two adults, each with their two children. All total there
would be nine of us there on the hill to ride out the storm. We
were fortunate in that we never lost electrical power so we were
able to watch the Houston television stations and keep abreast of
what was happening back in our home counties of Walker and
Montgomery. The adults would occasionally change the channel on the
television from the news so the younger refugees could watch a movie
to break the monotony. I really didn’t care what was on the
television except when we were watching the news. I wanted this
horrible dream that I was in to come to an end. I wanted to wake up
and find it was all a bad dream and I was safe in my own home. It
was at times like this I would slip away to the bedroom where I
could be alone and pray. The Lord heard many prayers from me on
behalf of my sons who were in the midst of one of the worst traffic
jams in the history of Texas. One’s job was to assist other law
enforcement officers in keeping the peace among the thousands of
misplaced people who looking for a safe place to ride out the
storm. The other son was one of the many volunteers who did behind
the scenes things like providing food for the emergency personnel,
locating and acquiring portable generators for those in need, and
running errands. Both of my sons and other emergency personnel were
dealing with people who were not in the best of moods….people who
were frustrated, scared and upset. It took patience on their part
to assist and remain sane.
Finally, in desperation, I sat outside, alone,
under the big oak tree, talked to the Lord there, and began penning
this little story. Writing is a great release for me in times of
trouble. I had spent a lot of time Friday just pacing around the
house, outside the house, walking to the mailbox, taking photos of
the house and the surrounding area. I could not seem to find a
place where I was at peace. Try as I might, I could not let go and
let God take care of my children. As a mother I wanted to be there
with them and shield them from danger.
I looked up to the heavens and asked Him to
please give me peace because I knew I could not go home. I said,
“Lord, I submit to Your will. Take away my fear and concern of what
might be happening to my sons. Give me Your peace in my heart that
I may know that they are going to be alright.” I sat quietly for a
few minutes and felt His presence as He quieted my heart and gave
the peace I had been seeking. I bowed my head and said, “Thank you,
Lord.” I was not a concerned about the safety of my daughter,
Heather, as much I was the sons’ well-being because her husband had
loaded her and their two children into their truck and headed west.
They would eventually end up visiting San Angelo, Texas while
escaping the storm.
Because I nearly always have writing material
at hand, I took up my paper and pen while sitting under an oak tree
that had stood for a century on the sandy hill and began to write
this little story. The next day when the storm winds came blowing
in from the north, snapping small limbs and twigs from the trees
around the house, I was able to stand on the porch and feel the
awesome power that was being displayed. The wind blew all day
until late that afternoon. Then a calm came over the hill, much
like the calm that had entered my heart. Again, I turned to my
heavenly Father with words of thanks for his wonderful protection he
had granted us.
During the days I was an evacuee, I and the
others on the Pearson Chapel hill, carried our cell phones
everywhere we went. I am sure I used most of Heather’s allotted
minutes during those days because I was either calling or being
called numerous times each day and night. Just to hear a familiar
voice helped me survive. I was blessed because so many other
displaced people had no contact with their loved ones for days.
That Saturday afternoon I talked to Don and
assured him we had survived with no damage, no loss of electrical
power, etc. He said there was no electrical power in our town, but
my home had survived with no damage. I told him I wanted to come
home that night. He assured me he would be there early the next
morning to bring me home, but for that night I needed to remain
where I was. Those were not the words I was wanting to hear, but I
trusted him to guide me in the best way.
That night it was hard for me to sleep because
I felt like a child on Christmas Eve. Something exciting was going
to take place the next day! I was coming home!! I woke up at 4:00
a.m. but lay in the bed trying to go back to sleep, for you see my
gracious hosts were at last getting some much needed rest and I did
not want to disturb them. The other six refugees had left late the
afternoon before and I was the only guest left. Finally at 6:00
a.m. I could remain in bed no longer. I arose, stripped the linens
from my bed, did a quick tidying of the room and began to prepare
for the day. My room faced the east, so I opened the blinds and
watched the most beautiful sunrise I had seen in a long time. It
was like a message from God saying, life is good and you will be
alright.
After a relaxing bath, I dressed, packed my
things and was waiting for my son’s arrival much before the
appointed hour of 8:00 a.m. Mary, Robert and I feasted on a
breakfast fit for a king…..those wonderful homemade yeast biscuits
that Mary makes so well were only a part of the meal. As I bowed my
head to ask God’s blessing on the food, I thanked Him again for His
wonderful watch care over the little group who learned much about
each other during our stay in Houston County, Texas.
As soon as Don arrived I began loading my
things in the car, said a quick goodbye to Mary and Robert, once
again expressing to them my gratitude to them for taking me in.
And then we were on our way home.
Along the highway I saw evidence of the
storm’s passage – trees uprooted, minor damage to buildings. When
we turned onto the street where I live, that was the most welcome
site. My little house had indeed sustained no damage. There were a
few small branches, twigs mostly, on the ground. My neighbors were
out in their yard cleaning up the debris. As soon as we pulled into
the driveway and I began unloading the car, two of the neighbor
children hurried across the street to help me. Jessica and Vanessa
carried into the house most of the stuff I had taken with me.
You remember when I was told to pack up and be ready to leave within
an hour that 22nd day of September 2005, the first things
I moved to the living room to be loaded into the car were my
genealogy binders and the binders that contain many of my writings.
The night before when I had packed the large boxes of these items
with the intention of taking them to the vault at City Hall, I
actually called our mayor and got his permission to do this.
However, we did not take the time to leave the boxes at City Hall
because once we were able to squeeze into the line of traffic, we
chose not to lose our place. As I stated earlier, it was only after
those precious things were ready to be loaded did I grab clothes and
toiletries, so dear to me were they.
As Don had warned me, there was no
electricity, but we did have water. The city had obtained a large
generator which was used to power the pump on well number two, which
is on land adjacent to my back yard. It was a welcome sound to hear
the purr of that generator. A sound that I would live with for days
to come as we waited for uninterrupted electrical power to be
restored.
Don was able to secure a portable generator
which we used to charge my refrigerator and to power a small air
conditioner in my bedroom for a couple of hours. Then the
generator would be taken to another home for a few hours. This
procedure continued until the day his aunt was released from the
hospital following heart surgery. The generator was then left at
her house because she needed cool air much worse than the rest of us
did.
Once I was back at home, and during the hours
we had electrical power between the planned rolling blackouts those
first few days, I would cook for my family. My sons would drop in
for a hurried meal, then go back to their duties of keeping things
moving in an orderly fashion in our area. Heather and her family
would not have power until many days later so they, too, took their
meals with me, showered and rested at my home.
Within a week all was back to normal in my
household. The days I spent on the hill in Pearson Chapel will
always provide fond memories of having shared time with family
members. I will forever be grateful to Mary and Robert for taking
me in and making me feel so welcome. Hurricane Rita left memories
and I found peace.