I had accepted a new job with a company on beautiful Hilton Head Island and was thrilled to live where there were warm beaches in October. The view from my office overlooked the marina. My new life was looking good, up until the second day at work when I was greeted with, “Do you have somewhere to go?” Apparently, we all were in need of refuge, due to the impending danger of Hurricane Matthew. It was October 2016, and the governor of South Carolina was about to issue a mandatory evacuation.
A mere forty-two hours later (exactly 6 a.m.) I was among the thousands of evacuees being funneled toward the one bridge that led on and, more importantly, off the island. With my SUV tightly packed, I drove about 130 miles inland to the safety of a friend’s home, wondering what would be left after the storm hit.
The following morning, my host burst into the pre-dawn blackness of my guest room and asked, “Do you think you can drag yourself out of bed and go for a walk?” I groggily responded, “What time is it? Did he not realize that I was incredibly exhausted? “Oh, around 5:30,” he cheerfully replied. Ugh! I am not a morning person.
Despite the insanely early hour, I realized a brisk morning walk would help my nervous energy. This Missouri girl had never been evacuated from anywhere, and I found the entire experience unsettling. Half-awake, I rummaged through my suitcase, pulled out my running shoes, put on my athletic wear, and into the pre-dawn hour we went.
As we stepped off the lit street, onto the park path, there was no visible light – only total darkness. I wished for a flashlight. Beneath my feet, I could feel the concrete path, my sight now limited to what was directly in front of me. In the pitch black, I struggled to find direction on the uneven trail. My friend, now several steps ahead, begged me to step it up. I was stumbling. Finally, he reached back and said, “Take my hand.” The tightness of his grasp, tugging me in the right direction, came as a relief. With his help, I ventured along with ease as we finished our morning hike.
Later that night, the hurricane hit the coast. Safely inland, we could hear the heavy flood of rain as the storm passed. I would soon discover that Hurricane Matthew had devastated Hilton Head Island. The 87 mph winds, combined with tornados and severe flooding, had destroyed many homes and businesses, leaving no permanent place for me to live. My new company took a financial hit. These and other circumstances had made it impossible for me to stay in South Carolina. The winds had literally shifted my direction, and a week later, I was driving back to Missouri. My friends would later joke that it took a hurricane to bring me home.
During the two-day drive through the southeast, I wondered what would become of me. What was I going to do? Where was I going to live? How would I provide for myself? My future was uncertain and frightening. As anxiety began to well up inside, I remembered how it felt when my friend gripped my hand, walking along that uncertain, dark path – me, clueless of the direction. His grasp felt so secure. I wondered, is this is the feeling of security that God wants for me? My circumstances were no surprise to God. He knew exactly what my future held, even if I didn’t. Thinking of my friend’s confident, reassuring grip made me realize that my life, left in God’s capable hands, was much more secure – all I had to do was reach out, grab hold, and trust.
Jeremiah 29:11 – “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”