Are We Prepared?

I remember the day my father died.  I had just turned 22, and he was only 57 when he had a fatal stroke that callously ripped into our lives.     He was placed on life support for about 24 hours until the doctors convinced my mother there was nothing left to do and as soon as the machines were removed, he was gone

I remember driving home from the hospital and stopping at a traffic light.   I looked over at a car next to me and the people in it were laughing and talking.   I can’t describe the feeling that came over me.  I was almost indignant that they could go on with life, laughing as if nothing had happened.  Did they not know that life was different now and could never be the same again?    

I also experienced an epiphany that, before my father’s death, I was completely blind to.  It was as though a smoky haze was blown away, and I was suddenly aware that the person who was in the background of my life for 22 years was more than just the hardworking man who came home late most nights and worked endlessly the rest of the time. Suddenly, his absence was bigger than life and glaringly real.   In a fraction of a second, I realized a huge void was now present in my life.   I remember thinking, “What if something happens?”  I felt fear set in because, in the past, he was always there, faithfully present, and subconsciously I knew he was the one who would make things work out.  He could take care of anything. The void I felt was his missing presence and the realization that he would no longer be there, ever again.  I thought of the conversations I wished I had had with him. I thought of questions I needed to ask him, but now it was no longer possible. How could I have missed this?   Why did it take his absence to realize how important his presence was?  

Why these memories today?   I had forgotten those buried memories and emotions until a few days ago.  A disaster had occurred in our state, and hundreds of people and memories were swept away, buried in mud graves, or mangled by flying debris from buildings and raging wind and water.  Towns have been displaced, literally washed down the mountain until they overtook the ones below it. They have become smoldered into one as if they never existed independently of the other. Hundreds of people are still missing, and those found are unidentifiable in many cases.   The parkway is closed indefinitely as the leaf-changing season is cruelly upon us to remind us of what we assumed would be forever present, yet is no longer.  The void is remarkably glaring, and it took their sudden absence to reveal the importance of what they once were.   

Why the resurging emotion?  As I opened my FB page this morning, I saw a local small-town advertising a craft event, and I felt the same indignation rising that I felt over 50 years ago.  And I again remembered the day my father died.  I remembered the emotions of trying to somehow navigate through the event of his death and coming to the realization that life would never be the same again. And there was nothing I could do about it.    Today, I saw advertisements of people planning seasonal holiday events as if the past weekend had never occurred.   Can people not see the devastation that has occurred?   More importantly, can they not feel it?  Can we move ahead with fall festivals, holidays, school sporting events, etc., as if this past weekend did not change all our lives and that things will never be the same again from this day forward?   

We cannot change what has happened, but we can let it change us.   We can learn to value the importance of people, good people who work hard, raise their families, build their homes, and enjoy the beauty of the simple life.  We can understand the importance of integrity and truth and never take for granted that what we have grown so accustomed to being present in our lives can be gone in a split second. We can take advantage of our time with the ones we love, and we can guard and cherish each moment.  

And we must draw closer to the source of love and comfort Who has already been unjustly blamed by many because they cannot explain how this disaster could have happened.  Many have said or thought, “Surely, God was angry at someone. Surely, He was judging this area.    Surely, His hand was involved.”   But this faulty reasoning leads to our own self-sabotage of being able to move past the moment, out of blame and bitterness, and into the love we need for those left behind.

What will that first trip back to these familiar areas be like?   What emotions will there be when I see the vacant lots that businesses, homes and families once occupied and are now painfully empty?  What will it feel like to see the villages that have been there all my life, yet are no longer visible?   The pictures and video clips are devastating to look at, but I know the actual experience will be overwhelming. 

These types of disasters have occurred repeatedly since the beginning of time.  Yet, they never got this close.   They were always somewhere else, and they always affected someone else.   This could not happen to us, but it did. Can we let this be a wake-up call about how precious life and people are and that nothing is guaranteed?  Can it allow us to see the goodness of God and how His heart must break when He sees the devastation that brought too many lives to an untimely end?  Years of love and labor for many were swept away by a storm that was out of place.  No one was prepared for what happened a few days ago in the mountains of North Carolina.    

In recent months, I have heard many comments comparing the times we live in and how Jesus said,  in Mt. 24: 37, “When the Son of Man returns, it will be like it was in Noah’s day. 38 In those days before the flood, the people were enjoying banquets and parties and weddings right up to the time Noah entered his boat. 39 People didn’t realize what was going to happen until the flood came and swept them all away. That is the way it will be when the Son of Man comes.”   People were living life as usual, and the unexpected happened. People didn’t realize what was coming and how important it was to be prepared.  

Jesus asked another question in Luke 18:8, “Will the Son of Man find faith on earth when He returns?” We must each individually answer this question for ourselves.   Am I prepared?  Am I ready?  Just as Helene hit many unaware, there are those who have heard the “life warnings” but do not believe it can affect them. Even though Helene’s pathway was predicted, its intensity was not.   God is reaching out and calling.  He is warning.  Are we tuned in, and do we believe?   The name Helene means torch or bright light.  Can we turn this horrible experience into a light in our darkened lives and nation and begin to understand and accept God’s love and His Word of hope?  God has made a way for life through His Son Jesus.  Are we hearing the warnings?  Do we see the signs?  Or are we too occupied?