Member-only story
Can You Stop a Hurricane?
An Experiment in Prayer
A hurricane was coming, and I wasn’t ready.
A few years ago, as a freshly divorced single mom in Florida, I was watching a hurricane form above Africa and start moving towards the US. I didn’t know how to drill plywood holes to cover the windows, even if I HAD some plywood. I grew up VERY dependent on men, which was the way my religious group liked it. But now there was no man.
I had figured out how to do certain things, but there were big gaps in my skillset.
But I had kids to protect.
I tried to be resourceful — drove to a few hardware stores but all I found was one big jug of water. If you’ve ever been in Florida before a storm hits, there’s a weird sense of urgency in the air. It’s partially excitement and bravado, and partially existential angst. Like, is THIS the one?
Mostly I needed not to be hit by the hurricane.
Leaving wasn’t really an option, because I know from experience that evacuating, even to another state, can still put you in the eye of a storm whose path changes track. You end up getting hit by the very storm you were trying to dodge.
I also didn’t want other people to get hit, and I had one tool I had that I DID know how to use.
