Storm Tossed: A troubled woman finds peace with herself and God in the midst of life's storms. (16 page)

The smile left his face and his eyes clouded. “No,” he said, trying to control his emotions again. “Lance says the government agents there, the flood water, the bod—“, he stopped, cleared his throat. “The impassable roads are making things next to impossible. But he’ll call me as soon as he finds her. He’ll keep me posted.”

“That’s what he said two weeks ago!” she said, her voice raised and having a hard edge. She needed to target her anger, rooted in fear,
somewhere.
“He isn’t doing jack to find her!”

Faith was usually a calm, steady, even-keel sort of person. She’d probably be emotionally unmoved if you told her a volcano had exploded and destroyed all of Hawaii. Despite the dire circumstances, her emotional outburst was still surprising to Jackson. Faith’s words echoed his own from moments ago, but Jackson defended Lance so as to not cause her more stress.

“Honey, they are doing all they can. It’s chaos there. Have you been watching the news? Have you seen what the rescue workers, FEMA, cops, and paramedics are up against and dealing with there? ”

“Yeah. There’s a bunch of dead people and animals. Power is still off. The National Guard is there. Riots and looting. It’s gonna’ cost gazillions to repair and rebuild. So what? Nobody is helping us find her!” Faith was hurriedly eating now. It reminded Jackson of a lion attacking its prey.

“Slow down there. I cooked that special just for you, so I want you to slowly savor it,” Jackson said, attempting a smile again. But she was just saying exactly what he was thinking and feeling. He looked down at his plate a minute and took a deep breath.

“I’ve been thinking I should just fly there myself and find her,” he said quietly.

“Oh great, then you’ll go there, get sick from the mosquitoes and I’ll have to worry about you being dead, too!” It was too late. The words were now out there, spoken like a Divine judgment. Faith looked down at her plate so he wouldn’t see the sudden tears. She wanted her mom! Jackson put his hand over her arm, a bit roughly.

“Stop it! She’s not dead!” he yelled. He realized her words scared the crap out of him. He had thought the same thing many times, but kept pushing the unwelcome intrusion away by staying busy, making calls, working, eating, and watching sci-fi shows with Faith.

She was just voicing what he was too afraid to deal with right now. Faith was just like her mother, direct, confrontational.
Like a bull in a china shop
, Jackson thought.
God, what if Rachel is dead?

He shook himself, like God in Psalm 76:5, NIV: “Then the Lord awoke as from sleep, as a warrior wakes from the stupor of wine.”

“I can’t just sit here anymore, wondering and worrying, Faith. I’m booking a flight right now to Fort Walton. The commercial airport in Destin is still a madhouse, Lance said, but Fort Walton is only 20 minutes from Destin. I’ve got to do something or I’m going to go stir crazy. That is, if this rain will just stop one second for me to fly out of here. Do you want to go sleep over at Autumn’s while I’m gone or stay here until I get back? We’ve still got groceries here to last for a week. I just can’t take this not knowing anymore,” Jackson said, looking at her angry blue eyes for understanding and to read her true feelings. In the ocean-like depths of blue, he saw deep sorrow and fear. No, it was deeper than fear. It was terror. His heart broke for her. Her eyes mirrored his soul.
He put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her, looking at her in love.

Faith softened and actually seemed relieved at the news. “Okay, dad. I’ll be fine here. I’ll call Autumn if I need anything,” she assured him. Knowing something, even the worse, was better than this horrible waiting game. Her stomach and his were in constant knots. She now got how her military family friend, Haley, felt when her dad went missing in action in Afghanistan two years ago.

They still didn’t know where he was, if he was a prisoner of war, being tortured, or dead. Faith thought it was strange and heartless when Haley told her one time that she’d rather hear news that her dad had died than to keep being in eternal limbo, not knowing anything. “Your mind never shuts off, always thinking the worse about the situation. Those ISIS terrorist guys over in the Middle East are merciless to their prisoners. The waiting is the worst,” she’d told Faith. Now Faith understood.

As Jackson called the airlines to book the earliest flight possible, he looked out the dining room window and noticed the rain had suddenly stopped. The sun was shining through the canopy of green trees, like the bridegroom from the bridal bed in Psalm 19:5, and as Jackson looked to the east at the blue sky, he smiled big at what he saw. A double rainbow, with some of the most vibrant colors he’d ever seen.
All of God’s promises are yes and amen
. He pointed it out to Faith, and her heart lifted with joy, too.

Lance and his partner Nick were walking property to property in Destin through the sludge, searching through the few houses standing, some parts of the water over knee deep. Both men were cussing because their boots were now ruined, the mosquitoes were eating them alive, and this was arduous, thankless work.

But they’d had their orders from Sheriff Chad; he had every man and woman in his department out on the streets as first responders, searching for any possible survivors (very unlikely now!), and he had called in aid from sheriff departments, police departments, and other agencies state-wide. It was going to be a long, long day.

Lance swore again as he stumbled over a piece of pottery, soaking his uniform pants up to his thighs.

What a mess! I think even God would cuss in this
, Lance thought and then felt bad. After all, what were wet pants compared to being dead or hurt and losing everything you had?

Sorry God, don’t mean to be irreverent or ungrateful. I know You got the patience of a saint and then some—but I ain’t no saint and You know it.

No telling what’s in these waters
, Lance thought, grimacing. The day had already been hellacious, with him and Nick tagging lots of bodies instead of finding any survivors as they’d desperately hoped. He didn’t want to have to call his bud Jackson and tell him that his wife Rachel was another sad statistic. They were close to the neighborhood where she’d rented that beach house for the summer and he was trying to hurry to find her. Some of the debris had finally been cleared on the single narrow road leading to the private properties there, where Rachel’s beach house was, and the water was finally receding, making access much easier now.

The men approached a pile of red bricks and sky-blue-painted wood that used to be someone’s home. Lance’s heart sank as he saw scattered toys (stuffed animals, Legos, plastic red and yellow sand pails, dolls, a basketball), knowing inside this one there had been kids. Lance was so tired of seeing the dead children today. Any dead body wasn’t a pleasant sight, but the innocent children’s lives taken from the storm really shook up Lance.

“Not again,” Nick groaned and Lance knew he felt the same way. The Destin Police Department, working with other agencies, was having difficulty identifying some of the people’s bodies. Everything was in chaos under the rubble of houses, including birth certificate papers, driver’s licenses, bank statements, credit card receipts, anything which might give a clue who these people were. Some of the bodies they had to tag on the toe, simply using their race, gender, and approximate age.

Whereas in a tornado you could mark homes with a big painted X, there was barely anything left of these homes to mark anything. Nick called in on the radio after each body was tagged, and now he sighed loudly.

“Why doesn’t God do something?” he asked angrily. You could hear the disgust, but also the distraught and perplexed question, in his low voice.

Lance looked over at him, surprised. Nick passionately claimed to everyone at the sheriff department and whom he met to be agnostic, not believing in God. Lance had never really believed him; he thought Nick was just angry at God for his father abandoning him when he was eight years old, to run off with another woman, leaving his family financially destitute.

Nick’s mom Allie had worked 2 jobs then just to put food on the table for Nick and his two brothers and two sisters. Nick got a job at 15 years old at the Publix store, bagging groceries, and worked as a waiter, too, at the Jumpin’ Catfish restaurant for tips, just to help out his mom with the bills.

He did this until he graduated from the academy and got his deputy sheriff job, and still sent money home to his mother each paycheck for food and other necessities, as she still had two of the kids living at home. She now had just one job, making much better money as a physical therapist (he was so proud of her for getting through her schooling, while taking care of all the kids herself and working two jobs). She claimed she didn’t need Nick’s money anymore, but he didn’t want his family ever going without anything again. He had stepped up to be the man of the house when his dad left them, and felt protective of his family.

Lance thought that Nick believed God was like his dad and didn’t really love him or care about him—or anyone.

“Well, I’d say God is doing something,” Lance said, spitting tobacco and it made a loud plopping sound in the muddy water. “He uses people on earth to accomplish His purpose. He’s using you and me right now to help others. I’d say before the end of this day, we’re going to see His hand at work in some pretty amazing ways. I have faith for that! Watch and see.”

Nick was silent a minute, brooding, as he dug through the bricks near the toys. He hoped his partner was right. Lance didn’t know this, but Nick was silently praying that they wouldn’t find any more dead children. He just couldn’t take it anymore.

They didn’t deserve this. Some of the adults did, for sure (he had arrested some of them!), but not the innocent, little kids. What had they done wrong to die or suffer? Where was God when the hurricane hit? Asleep? Off making other worlds and people? Watching Satan go crazy and folding His big arms, doing nothing about the enemy’s destruction?

What about your miracles, God
, he prayed.
I thought in the Bible You did miracles! How come I don’t see any here today—like a child who actually survived this?

Nick felt like hitting something or someone. He was hot as hades, sweating profusely, exhausted from having hardly any sleep the night before and from the hard, manual labor digging through houses. He was famished. All he could think about right now was eating a cheeseburger and fries. And he was mad at God.

You aren’t even listening, are You? You never answer me!
He thought in a rage.
You don’t even exist, do You?

Suddenly a gust of wind blew past them and a beautiful, white dove hovered near Nick, then flew away as suddenly as he came. Lance and Nick, startled, both watched it fly off into the grey sky. “Well, did you see that?” Lance said, grinning. “You know a dove is a symbol of the Holy Spirit!”

“What?” Nick asked, scowling quizzically at him. But he’d noticed the dove, too, and wondered about it. It had happened right after he’d been thinking about God.

Then they heard someone singing. “Wait, did you hear that?” Lance asked, and goosebumps broke out over Nick’s blonde-hairy arms and thick, sunburned neck. He didn’t know where in the heck his hat was and he was going to be burned as a crisp at the end of the day. The rain was dissipating, making searching a lot easier now.

Nick whirled around at the unexpected noise. There, near a pile of bricks and shingles in what was left of an attic, was a little girl of about five years old. She had dark, tangled curls and big, liquid brown eyes, framed with thick, long lashes that were wet with frightened tears. She was singing “Jesus loves me” while crying to comfort herself, but alive!

A few feet away were her brother and her mom, who were delirious. Lance was quickly pushing the debris off of them, and saw that, miraculously, they were physically uninjured.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” Nick asked the little girl, blinking back the tears, bending down on his knees to look her in the eyes and to smile reassuringly at her. He didn’t care the water was wetting his uniform. He quickly looked over her head and body to make sure she wasn’t bleeding or injured.

“Hope,” she answered sweetly, humming the song now.

I guess You are real, God. I guess you still do miracles after all
, Nick prayed again, and he hugged her tight, smiling big at Lance, who was laughing with joy at the treasure they’d just found, pulling Hope’s mom and brother up by the hand.

Hope hugged Nick back, and suddenly the sun burst through the dark clouds, shining on Nick’s upturned face. An unbidden tear slid down his cheek, as he felt the love of God in Hope’s trusting, gentle embrace. Quickly, he wiped it away before anyone saw. Hope was greatly relieved to be rescued by the nice officer, and her family, too.

Now maybe we can find Rachel, too
, Lance thought, his heart encouraged. He began whistling, and praising God for this sign and wonder.

*******

Adelle just couldn’t think about her dead friend Rylie right now or she’d go crazy. Like Scarlett O’Hara, she’d think about that tomorrow. Right now she just needed to find out if her neighbors were still alive, if anyone needed help. She would have to wait and call Morgan at the hospital in Colorado later to let her know she was okay. There still wasn’t any cell phone service, dadgumit.

She had managed to finally crawl out of Rylie’s demolished house when the water receded some, pushing boards and sheetrock off of her like a She-Hercules. She was now climbing her way over the mountain of splintered boards, helter-skelter scattered bricks, busted driveway concrete, and felled trees to the Topsider home, where that nice writer woman Rachel had been staying for the summer and her neighbors were next door, those sweet women Paula, Mandy and Gail and their families. Adelle was from Panama City, but she was visiting Rylie in Destin for a few days when Hurricane Ana hit.

She had gotten to know some of these wonderful people at backyard bbq’s and having s’mores on the beach, and she was worried about them. She paid no mind to her own fairly deep cuts and scratches and blue bruises, not even feeling them. She wondered where the heck the rescue crews were, but no matter.