The Emotional Hurricane
The fear surrounding hurricane Matthew was immense. I'm talking terrifying. The giant angry red blot on the radar. Words like category 4, catastrophic, total destruction, villages washing away. This is what we were hearing, and this is what we were expecting.
That Sunday Kenol told our congregation the hurricane was coming, and that it was expected to be huge, much bigger than anything we've had in recent history. The church spent time praying for the hurricane to weaken and for protection over the country. I was thankful he announced it because everyone I talked to really seemed to have no idea that it was coming. I can't tell you how many times I pulled my phone out to show the terrifying radar images, "See the red part, that's the hurricane! It's bigger than the entire country. It's going to be terrible. You need to take this seriously! " I cried out in my panicked voice. Most everyone just smiled and said, "God knows" or "We'll be fine."
The next few days are kind of a blur. I didn't sleep well at all. Sunday night I had this terrible dream that we didn't have a safe house and were trying to find shelter from the hurricane. We could see the storm coming and just kept running through fields, over hills, through buildings. The storm followed our path exactly and just kept coming for us. There was no hope. I was terrified and felt so helpless. The dream went on and on, as we ran frantically searching for safety. I woke up with my heart pounding and tears in my eyes, knowing there were mommas out there feeling that helpless. I couldn't sleep any more after that.
We lived in this "waiting" period for the next 48+ hours. Never once did the thought cross my mind that the storm wasn't coming to Titanyen. I KNEW it was coming, and I KNEW it would bring with it mass destruction. I just kept anxiously, fearfully waiting. During the endless hours of waiting there was a lot of time to think, far too much time to think. The office was closed, everything was shut down until the storm passed. We were all on hold. I sat, guilt ridden, in our safe solid home looking out over villages about to be decimated. Waiting and thinking, my imagination running wild. Thinking about post earthquake, thinking about what a natural disaster looks like, and what relief work looks like, thinking about the toll it would take on my mind, on my spirit and my body. Thinking about the new tent cities that would have to be built. Thinking about the families I've interviewed huddled in their tents. I had real honest discussions with myself about what I could and couldn't do this time around. A good friend and I talked about whether or not we were prepared to be digging people and/or bodies out of the mud in Cabaret if we had to. My thoughts were tormenting me, ping ponging back and forth between wanting to do everything I could to help anyone in need no matter what and being terrified of experiencing PTSD again. Waiting and thinking, waiting and thinking. My anxiety was rising, my nerves were wearing thin, my patience was running out. I started just wishing this storm would hit already so we could begin healing. I couldn't handle another day of waiting with my terrible, morbid thoughts.
I continued to check the hurricane websites, tracking the storm. Images started showing up showing that the storm was finally moving. FINALLY. It has stayed in place, tormenting the south for far too long. It was speeding up and heading North-West, away from our area. I stared at the computer screen. I checked multiple websites, different radar images. The storm wasn't coming to us?! The wind and rain we had was it!? I didn't know if I should trust these images, trust the information I was getting. How could it not be coming? Everything said it was coming for us. Was it really not coming? Slowly the winds calmed down and the rain started. It rained for a long time, but just a typical rain storm kind of rain, nothing like a hurricane rain.
I went to bed emotionally exhausted, confused and so unbelievably thankful. God has spared us, had spared our surrounding villages, had spared Port au Prince. I wanted to shout thanksgiving and praise from the rooftops that the Lord had heard our prayers and protected us.
The next morning, Wednesday, the sun was almost peeking through the clouds. A calm drizzly day followed. Wednesday is my Bible study night. The night friends and fellow missionaries from Simonette, Titanyen, Bon Repos and Port au Prince came over. We eat, talk, share, learn and pray together every week. As the ladies arrived we each shared our "hurricane experience". Every story was different, but the stories had common threads of guilt, painful waiting, difficulty trusting the storm wasn't still coming for us, even after things had calmed down. We talked through our homework for the week, from our Armour of God study. This weeks homework was all about peace. How perfectly timed, and yet I had missed it. I had missed it completely. I had felt NO peace at all. I immediately went into trauma mode, remember the past and projecting that into my future. I have so much to learn. I'm thankful for God's unconditional love and mercy for this hard headed daughter of his.
Thursday morning images of the Southern areas started coming in. Images of total destruction, fallen buildings, roofless homes, water half way up doorways. Hurricane Matthew destroyed much of the south. We were spared, but they were not. My heart is broken for this country I love so much.
The need right now is not only urgent but also vast. People who lost everything; their homes, their belongings, some even their loves ones, are now out of food and clean water. I imagine panic is setting in as we are on day 6 now, supplies that weren't destroyed are running dry.
Please pray. Please give.
As I wrote this a barge loaded with 1.5 million meals and drinking water arrived in Jeremie and supplies were unloaded before heading to their next stop. HaitiOne with Mission of Hope is working round the clock to reach those most in need. If you would like to help their efforts I recommend you give to mohhaiti.org/relief
One thing I know in the midst of so much pain, suffering and uncertainty is that Haiti will rise and somehow, someway, God will be glorified. It's hard to see that now, or imagine what that could look like, but I know it to be true.
And out of every storm, out of every dust pile Haiti will rise again.
Ayiti cheri, mwen renmen w.
That Sunday Kenol told our congregation the hurricane was coming, and that it was expected to be huge, much bigger than anything we've had in recent history. The church spent time praying for the hurricane to weaken and for protection over the country. I was thankful he announced it because everyone I talked to really seemed to have no idea that it was coming. I can't tell you how many times I pulled my phone out to show the terrifying radar images, "See the red part, that's the hurricane! It's bigger than the entire country. It's going to be terrible. You need to take this seriously! " I cried out in my panicked voice. Most everyone just smiled and said, "God knows" or "We'll be fine."
The next few days are kind of a blur. I didn't sleep well at all. Sunday night I had this terrible dream that we didn't have a safe house and were trying to find shelter from the hurricane. We could see the storm coming and just kept running through fields, over hills, through buildings. The storm followed our path exactly and just kept coming for us. There was no hope. I was terrified and felt so helpless. The dream went on and on, as we ran frantically searching for safety. I woke up with my heart pounding and tears in my eyes, knowing there were mommas out there feeling that helpless. I couldn't sleep any more after that.
We lived in this "waiting" period for the next 48+ hours. Never once did the thought cross my mind that the storm wasn't coming to Titanyen. I KNEW it was coming, and I KNEW it would bring with it mass destruction. I just kept anxiously, fearfully waiting. During the endless hours of waiting there was a lot of time to think, far too much time to think. The office was closed, everything was shut down until the storm passed. We were all on hold. I sat, guilt ridden, in our safe solid home looking out over villages about to be decimated. Waiting and thinking, my imagination running wild. Thinking about post earthquake, thinking about what a natural disaster looks like, and what relief work looks like, thinking about the toll it would take on my mind, on my spirit and my body. Thinking about the new tent cities that would have to be built. Thinking about the families I've interviewed huddled in their tents. I had real honest discussions with myself about what I could and couldn't do this time around. A good friend and I talked about whether or not we were prepared to be digging people and/or bodies out of the mud in Cabaret if we had to. My thoughts were tormenting me, ping ponging back and forth between wanting to do everything I could to help anyone in need no matter what and being terrified of experiencing PTSD again. Waiting and thinking, waiting and thinking. My anxiety was rising, my nerves were wearing thin, my patience was running out. I started just wishing this storm would hit already so we could begin healing. I couldn't handle another day of waiting with my terrible, morbid thoughts.
I continued to check the hurricane websites, tracking the storm. Images started showing up showing that the storm was finally moving. FINALLY. It has stayed in place, tormenting the south for far too long. It was speeding up and heading North-West, away from our area. I stared at the computer screen. I checked multiple websites, different radar images. The storm wasn't coming to us?! The wind and rain we had was it!? I didn't know if I should trust these images, trust the information I was getting. How could it not be coming? Everything said it was coming for us. Was it really not coming? Slowly the winds calmed down and the rain started. It rained for a long time, but just a typical rain storm kind of rain, nothing like a hurricane rain.
I went to bed emotionally exhausted, confused and so unbelievably thankful. God has spared us, had spared our surrounding villages, had spared Port au Prince. I wanted to shout thanksgiving and praise from the rooftops that the Lord had heard our prayers and protected us.
The next morning, Wednesday, the sun was almost peeking through the clouds. A calm drizzly day followed. Wednesday is my Bible study night. The night friends and fellow missionaries from Simonette, Titanyen, Bon Repos and Port au Prince came over. We eat, talk, share, learn and pray together every week. As the ladies arrived we each shared our "hurricane experience". Every story was different, but the stories had common threads of guilt, painful waiting, difficulty trusting the storm wasn't still coming for us, even after things had calmed down. We talked through our homework for the week, from our Armour of God study. This weeks homework was all about peace. How perfectly timed, and yet I had missed it. I had missed it completely. I had felt NO peace at all. I immediately went into trauma mode, remember the past and projecting that into my future. I have so much to learn. I'm thankful for God's unconditional love and mercy for this hard headed daughter of his.
Thursday morning images of the Southern areas started coming in. Images of total destruction, fallen buildings, roofless homes, water half way up doorways. Hurricane Matthew destroyed much of the south. We were spared, but they were not. My heart is broken for this country I love so much.
The need right now is not only urgent but also vast. People who lost everything; their homes, their belongings, some even their loves ones, are now out of food and clean water. I imagine panic is setting in as we are on day 6 now, supplies that weren't destroyed are running dry.
Please pray. Please give.
As I wrote this a barge loaded with 1.5 million meals and drinking water arrived in Jeremie and supplies were unloaded before heading to their next stop. HaitiOne with Mission of Hope is working round the clock to reach those most in need. If you would like to help their efforts I recommend you give to mohhaiti.org/relief
One thing I know in the midst of so much pain, suffering and uncertainty is that Haiti will rise and somehow, someway, God will be glorified. It's hard to see that now, or imagine what that could look like, but I know it to be true.
And out of every storm, out of every dust pile Haiti will rise again.
Ayiti cheri, mwen renmen w.
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