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The winds were insatiable. Right when you thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse, it would. For years, the worse hurricane we experienced was a weak category 1. Irene was a brutal category 3/4 and by the testimony of many seasoned Bahamians, was the worst hurricane in recent memory.
As the forecast determined that Eleuthera would receive the full brunt of the storm’s fury we began the preparations of gathering resources and equipment. Thankfully the Lord gave us the foresight to order a generator only 2 weeks earlier! Little did we know how desperately we would depend on it.
As the storm grew closer we finished shuttering up the school and removing anything that could be come airborne debris. Emily was the epitome of over-prepared. She had suitcases packed, food for what seemed like a week, and gallons of water. She had games and batteries and blankets and every flashlight in the house. You’d have thought it was either Y2K or a nuclear attack – we could have lived in our sheltered room for days on end. Thankfully the storm would only be the greater part of 1 day.
Darkness of night fell on Wednesday and the winds were already gusting to dangerous speeds. We shut the door for the last time and settled in for an expected long night. At 8:06pm the power went out (and it has yet to come back on 2 weeks later). We chose the office to take shelter in. With 4 concrete walls and a northern exposure it is the strongest room in the house.
At 2:00am the wind was beating against the walls. You could hear debris hitting the side of the house. At 3:00am the wind would repeatedly gust to speed that sounded like our shutters would tear off. At 4:00am the gusts became a steady wall of wind, no longer gusting, but blowing with fierce persistence. At 4:30am the eye-wall hit Eleuthera. It sounded like a freight train was scrapping against the side of the house. When you would say that it couldn’t possibly become any louder or aggressive, it would. The house shook, and helplessness was the predominate feeling, all we could do is wait. All along, Micah sleeps… unconscious of the storm, unaffected by the danger.
At 5:30am we were in the eye of the storm. I went outside as the winds suddenly stopped. The destruction was overwhelming. It was as if the entire landscape had been transformed. I took a few pictures, and the winds began to pick up again as we entered the second half of the storm.
For years I had wondered what a devastating hurricane was like, and if we could make it or even should make it through one? As we took evaluation of the damage afterward, our little house only had minor damage (unlike many of the neighboring ones).
The eye of man can see things in very different perspectives. To the unspiritual, a storm is simply a storm: wind vectors, barometric pressure, and precipitation. To the spiritual man, it is a keen reminder of our reality as creatures of the Creator. We are so easily deceived into the illusion of our own control and ability over nature. Irene was a tangible reminder of our dependency and inability. For the same grace that delivers our very next breath is the grace that kept our roof from blowing away and our house from crumbling. The lesson must be kept, that for all the cunning and engineering of man, it is the Lord who protects, sustains and delivers.
