THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, August 26, 1995 TAG: 9508250060
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E7 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: Issues of Faith
SOURCE: Betsy Wright
LENGTH: Medium: 89 lines
BEFORE LEAVING for work Thursday morning, I set out a few tools for my son's chore that day: razor blades, adhesive remover, paper towels and glass cleaner. It was Luke's job to scrape off all the masking tape on our glass doors.
Such are the remnants of Hurricane Felix, the storm that wasn't.
When word came that Felix was headed our way, my family chose to evacuate. We live barely two blocks from the ocean. Hurricane-sitting is not an option.
Immediately, the preparations began. Gather batteries, radio, flashlights, candles, matches and water - lots of water. Tape windows. Secure loose outdoor objects like potted plants, toys, bikes and lawn furniture. Gather water - lots of water. Take photos of the house for the insurance company. Call out-of-town relatives to let them know our evacuation site. Gather water - lots of water.
Once this stuff had been done, we began to pack for evacuation. We loaded the minivan with things that couldn't be replaced: photographs, scrapbooks, jewelry, mementoes, trophies, important papers. My husband, son and I took two sets each of clean underwear, shirt and shorts. My 13-year-old daughter got a bigger space allowance, packing a large suitcase full of the new school clothes she'd purchased just days before with her summer earnings.
Jordannah, our 3-month-old baby, got the biggest space allowance of all: two large boxes filled with the beautiful cards, clothes, blankets, bonnets and toys she'd been given for her birth. (It was a silly extravagance, but if Humberto comes this way, those two boxes are back in the minivan.)
By the time we got to our safe place, I was pooped.
By the time Felix passed by, I was nearly peeved.
Like many folks, I felt almost let down because we didn't get much of anything. No wind. No rain. No hurricane.
``All that for nothing,'' I grumbled.
``You didn't do all that for nothing,'' responded my best-buddy-and-good-angel Susan Smith. ``You have three beautiful children. It was a hurricane. That's nothing to fool with.''
We went on talking that morning, and as our conversations often do, the talk turned to spiritual matters.
``This hurricane reminds me so much,'' Susan said, ``of people who think there's always going to be a tomorrow and that tomorrow is always going to be wonderful. And we're all like that, really. We put off getting close to God. We put off reading our Bibles. We put off repenting or doing that kind deed. We put off saying `I love you' or `Forgive me.' We always think we'll have time, but the truth is, we never know if we will or not.''
Susan is right. We humans know the end is coming. We know that accidents happen. Hurricanes happen. Anything can happen to take away our lives, and yet we put off preparing for that end.
Like most of Hampton Roads, I knew a hurricane was coming long before Felix was even a breeze. This is, by golly, hurricane season in Hurricane Alley. Why didn't I have my batteries, candles and water - lots of water - ready?
The answer is quite simple: I'm lazy.
And that's the same reason many folks aren't spiritually ready. ``I'll do it tomorrow,'' they say, forgetting that tomorrow may never come. And even if tomorrow does come, they forget that it might be awful. When hard times come, these same folks are overwhelmed. They haven't done their prep work. They haven't established a relationship with God, and so the storms of their lives consume them. They are devastated, and, ironically, they often ask, ``Where is God?''
God is where God always is. Present. Waiting for us to invite him into our lives.
What have we lost if we live each day spiritually as if it is our last? Nothing, really. In fact, there is much to gain. Think of the things we do to get closer to God: read Scripture, fellowship with believers and friends, pray, praise, serve others, show kindness, smile, worship.
Not such a bad way to live after all.
Why do we prepare for a hurricane? So that if it hits, we are ready. Our preparation makes us feel safe when facing the unknown. And because we haven't waited until the last minute, we can do more than just survive. We can relax a bit. We can live a little better along the way.
Why should we prepare for our life's end? For all the reasons above.
And, as my best buddy, Susan, says: ``I don't seek God because God guarantees me some perfect little life. I seek God because I know the bad stuff is coming and I'm going to need God's strength when it hits.'' MEMO: Every other week, Betsy Mathews Wright publishes responses to her
opinion column. Send responses to Issues of Faith, The Virginian-Pilot,
150 W. Brambleton Ave., Norfolk, Va. 23510; call (804) 446-2273; FAX
(804) 436-2798; or send e-mail to bmw(AT)infi.net. Deadline is Tuesday
before publication. You must include name, city and phone number.
by CNB