Tomorrow, four weeks will have passed since Hurricane Helene struck, and, for the most part (certainly with exceptions), life seems to be creeping back to normal or what may be a “new normal” for at least a time. Considering all that has transpired, I’m fascinated how adaptive we humans can be and how quickly changes wrought by disaster can be adopted into our daily routines. In pre-storm days, I had already memorized and learned to dodge each pothole and deeper-than-normal manhole cover on the local roadways. Now, post-Helene, I’ve simply added items to that list – the occasional bags of trash that cross the white line, that tree limb hanging a bit lower than before, the mini-landslide that still juts slightly into the roadway, or entire lanes that no longer exist or are hanging by a thread. Slowing down for orange traffic cones and preparing to take my turn on a now one-lane road seems oddly instinctual.

As we’ve begun drying out, I’ve also observed the “beige-ness” of it all. That is, the fine layer of dirty dust that seems to have become ingrained in our pavement and covers the roadsides. I feel like everything needs a good hosing down in order to restore some of our lost vibrancy, but in the absence of a ginormous pressure washer, that will likely only be achieved by a succession of rains. Our collective wounding is still raw and sensitive, though, and rain is a traumatic trigger that makes us nervous right now. I am quite content with and grateful for the sunny, warm fall days God has blessed us with that enable recovery efforts, including those of lineman and heavy equipment operators, to inch forward. 

Among the many common Helene-related sights around us are trees whose limbs are still draped with all manner of debris, hillsides marred by mudslide-induced raw patches, gaping wounds on the banks of our creeks and rivers, once grassy public spaces embedded with a rubble of stone and silt, rare and miraculously surviving bridges abutted with mangled branches and logs, and homes fronted by piles of water-damaged and mud-encrusted items once treasured, now trashed.

With all these observations in mind, I think back to last Sunday’s service at my church, during which a sweet couple sang a song that spoke about seeing God’s beauty around us. Despite the ugliness of the storm’s residue, if we take the time to notice, we can still find beauty – the loveliness of the mountains that encompass us, autumn’s brilliant reds and oranges manifested in leaves that endured high winds, and the “supermoon” that has lately been lighting up our nights. And, of course, beyond these elements of nature, we can look around and observe the tremendous beauty of community and neighbors helping and loving neighbors.

As I reflect on the sum of my life thus far, Hurricane Helene is merely one item on a list of troubles. Granted, I suffered no great losses during this particular storm and am thus well acquainted with the odd mingling of gratitude and guilt – something I would dare say many of us have recently felt. We all go through seasons of trials, hardship, loss, discouragement, and disappointment. Some folks seem to have more than their fair share, and we can always look around and recognize someone whose circumstances are direr than our own. Human resiliency also varies among us, and what may trouble one person may not pose a challenge for another. But I don't want to focus on comparisons or try to delineate who has it better or worse. Truth is, troubles of varying degrees befall us all and are common to mankind – medical crises, family turmoil, the deaths of loved ones taken too soon, problems at work, financial woes, broken relationships, and the list goes on and on. But one thing I have also found to be true is that, despite these things, a new day has always dawned.  Difficulties came, AND YET THE SUN AROSE.

Years ago, Norman Vincent Peale wrote a book “The Power of Positive Thinking,” and Hollywood columnist Rona Barrett used to end her commentaries with, “Keep thinking the good thoughts.” It’s true that our mindset has great bearing on our outlook, but it’s even better when our positivity is rooted in faith. I’m thankful I have a Savior who understands firsthand what it means to be human and all the ups and downs of that human experience. During His earthly ministry, Jesus was often rejected and antagonized - a man of sorrows acquainted with grief, Scripture tells us - and at the end of His life, He was subjected to great physical abuse. But beyond the wounds inflicted upon his outward flesh, I cannot begin to fathom the anguish he endured as He took upon Himself the weight of all of mankind’s sin – past, present, and future. He was crucified, dead, and buried, AND YET THE SON AROSE.

In Christ, we have hope and the promise of better things in eternity. Whatever you may be struggling with today, look to Him and look for glimpses of His beauty in your surroundings. In the midst or aftermath of a storm, they may seem small – even non-existent, but if you look closely enough, I promise they are there. As we mark this one-month anniversary of Helene, as we continue down the long road to recovery, and as we deal with any number of other circumstances not even related to the recent hurricane, remember to “cast all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7)