Weathering the storms of life

Preparing for hurricanes, finding hope in destruction and love in humanity.

I am writing from my home in Florida, where we just experienced two major hurricanes within 18 days, and the damage has been heart-wrenching. My husband and dad were remodeling our home—the one we plan to settle into for at least a few years. Ever since we committed to investing in real estate, our lifestyle has been very mobile, moving from house to house, remodeling, and moving again. We have worked diligently over the past few years to set our family up for long-term success, but this has required making short-term sacrifices. This fall season was particularly exciting for us because we knew that after leaving New York, where we stayed for four months over the summer, we would return to Florida and begin remodeling our home—finally creating a place to settle.

I couldn’t wait for the simple things: no longer living out of suitcases, hanging pictures on the walls, having a dedicated playroom for my daughter, a spacious kitchen to embark on my sourdough bread-making journey, and installing cabinets that don’t pop back out to attack my face every time I close them. I have visualized planting fruits n’ veggies, growing a garden, creating multifunctional spaces and cozy corners to write to my heart's content. I have craved an environment that fosters rootedness and stability. This is to also say that I am extremely grateful and proud of us for what we’ve been able to accomplish so far; this is our family dream and with great effort and sincerity, it is unfolding to reality. Yet as with anything worthwhile in life, it comes with its own set of hardships.

I have moved more times throughout my entire life than I can count. When my husband asks what it feels like I asked him to imagine planting a seed, then 2 weeks later, moving it into another location, then another month later, digging it up and moving it again. The plant suffers and has a hard time growing at the pace that it’s meant to. Its roots are being dug from beneath itself and placed into an entirely new environment where it needs to re-orient before it can fully thrive— if it survives. So this fall, it was a big deal for us to finally move into our home home where we would fulfill our craving for stability and rootedness.

September 23rd, we heard that there was a big storm coming, one that is likely to morph into a major hurricane so my husband left the site to board the windows in our rental property, came back and continued working. It landed on September 26 as a Category 4 in the northern Gulf coast area. We had some light winds, some rain, our lights flickered a few times throughout the remodel but that was it. My husband drove back to remove the boards from the windows and stored them in the garage until next year .. or so we thought.

October 4th, after 3 weeks, they officially completed the remodel. My dad was going to hang out another day but saw that there was a tropical storm coming our direction so he decided he would leave and make his 8 hour voyage back home before it gets here. Eager to settle in, we decided that we would pull an all nighter to clean the house and get it ready to move in the next day. If you’re a parent, you’d know this was a big gamble. It’s not like we’re in our college days where we can party hard all night and sleep in the next morning with no repercussions but a headache. No matter what we do, we’re still going to wake up to our baby girl, bright and early, ready to play and conquer the day. But we did it anyway and the next day we did it again — we could always catch up on rest tomorrow we said. Then we learned that another major hurricane was brewing in the Gulf projected to make landfall near us and this time everything felt completely different. The energy all around was eerie. While there were still piles of furniture that had been flooded on the side of the road from the previous hurricane, Florida was once again, declared a state of emergency.

Our Sunday plans went right out the window when we realized we had 3 homes, we needed to prepare for. What was supposed to be a day of spiritual communion became a day of prepping for yet another major hurricane.

There was a palpable sense of panic in the air. I zig zagged my way through at least 10 carts in one aisle at the grocery store to get some canned goods because it was very likely we were going to lose power for a while. There was no water left in the aisle, just a sign hanging over an empty aisle that said ‘Limit 3 Per Person’. Batteries and flash lights were sold out. Hurricane essentials had become scarce within 48 hours — 4 days before the hurricane was projected to make landfall.

As we continued to follow the radar, we watched the progression of the hurricane become stronger, it’s eye become tighter and its impact become wider. It started to rage towards us, moving quickly and now projected to be a Category 5. Being close to the water, we got the alert that we were in an evacuation zone. It was going to be a storm surge between 9 to 12 ft. If this was true, the home that we were going to move into was likely going to be flooded.

We looked at each other and knew we had to prepare for the absolute worse.

We put all of our furniture as high up as we possibly could, using chairs and tables to hold our couches and we used our beds to hold everything else. We boarded up the windows, used tarp, plywood, sandbags and did everything we possibly could to protect them.

Then we got into our car and we left.

We drove to the opposite coast, stayed in an Airbnb positioned more inland away from the water—running on little sleep and little energy.

We watched as the hurricane rapidly intensified, replaced an eye wall, then weakened then grew another eye wall.

We watched as the eye started to tighten and get smaller which means stronger.

We watched as a long time tenured local meteorologist became emotional in tears during an interview when he was asked about the impact of this upcoming hurricane.

We watched as the entire state of Florida was bracing for impact. I kid you not when I tell you it felt like every single butt hole in the state of Florida was clenched.

As we continued to track the storm, tornados started forming all over the states. Our phones made loud alerts in capital letters “EMERGENCY ALERT: LIFE-THREATENING TORNADO WARNING IN YOUR AREA. TAKE COVER NOW!” Watching the meteorologist keep up with the 17+ tornados forming all over the states was like watching an auctioneer chant his biddings at a grand show. He barely took a breath. Florida had over 133 tornado warnings — the most ever in history. In the middle of the madness, I leaned onto the only thing I knew to be true — to surrender all myself to the Lord. Surrender worries, fears, doubts, anxieties and learn to be in complete acceptance of what was unfolding. Even if it means we end up losing everything. As a family, we made peace in our mind that as long as we had each other, we would be okay.

We huddled into the small bathroom in the center of the house and my daughter and I sat in the tub while my husband and dog were on the floor beside us as the phone alerts continued going off. To her, it was a fun time with mom and dad in a “boat” giggling and playing. It reminded me of how innocent we were when we were kids—knowing absolutely nothing while our parents prepared for snow storms. We hid for 3 hours until stopped getting alerts and saw that the tornados calmed and dissolved before it made it’s way to us. The tornados struck the town below us and tragically killed many.

When the hurricane reached us, we could hear the strong howl of the winds, branches snapping and hitting the roof before it continued to make its way out of Florida into the Atlantic Ocean. Our power stayed on the entire time and as the rage of the winds subsided, our nervous system did too. After days of running on adrenaline, prepping and evacuating, we could finally get some rest.

We discovered the next morning that our properties lost power and after almost a week, we made it back to the other coast. We were relieved to find out that our home did not flood and there was no damage.

There is nothing that will wake you up with a slap of reality quite like the force of Mother Nature.

This is now the 4th hurricane I’ve lived through and here are the top lessons they’ve taught me:

Everything is temporary.

As I drove downtown on the usual path to the library, the contents of entire living rooms were lined up along the road from being flooded during the storms. People’s treasure boxes with important photos, achievements and memories washed up far away onto another person’s lawn. We work so hard our entire lives to accumulate more things without realizing how much grief we will feel when we eventually lose them. We are sold the American dream and that our homes are our pride and joy. We live in a culture that encourages us to build our identities around what we have and how much we own. One tornado through a town destructing everything in its path is an abrupt reminder that everything is temporary. Material items can satisfy us temporarily but it does not fulfill us.

As I learned from my meditation teacher, “Everything is here for us to use and to enjoy but not to possess or become possessed by.”

The truth is, we own nothing.

When we came to grips that our home would very likely flood, we also had to accept that even if we lost everything — we would be okay. This was hard to do knowing that we’ve poured everything we’ve had into real estate the last few years. Even when our home floods, when the hurricanes rip through emptying everything inside of it — we have to trust that we will be okay. Our human will is powerful but our human Spirit is unfathomable.

We can begin again.

And even in the middle of the grief amongst everything we’ve lost, we can trust that the challenging journey we are enduring is only strengthening us, transforming us into warriors who are prepared to face any future storms.

A life of peace doesn’t mean that we will never experience stress, anxieties or chaos. A life of peace is the result of how we build ourselves to handle the stress and chaos when it comes our way. Not if it comes our way but when it comes our way.

Everything in this world is temporary. It is subject to death or decay. It is here with you one day and the next day it will become dust. Our bodies become dust. But our Spirit— it lives on. It surpasses Eternity. It transcends space and time. If we can accept that everything is temporary, we can focus our attention on cultivating our Spirit, our relationships, our well-being, our joy and our harmony with the Lord- to that which fulfills us.

Destruction comes with no warning sign.

Florida is an ocean-neighboring state prone to hurricanes. We get it every year. I’ll never forget, my first hurricane as a homeowner, also a Category 5. I remember looking out the window at my neighbor across the street sitting on a chair on his lawn smoking a cigar while the winds were howling and we were hiding under our king sized mattress fort we built in the kitchen. He was born in Miami and a Florida native- took on the hurricane like a champ as if it were just another day. My point is, we’re used to this. Even if the houses flooded along the coast, we know that the water eventually recedes and goes back into the ocean. We have protocols in place, warnings well in advance so we can have plenty of time to prepare, county sandbag distribution centers, and most also have hurricane impact windows that can withstand strong winds up to 180 mph.

But not our neighbors in North Carolina.

Tucked away in the Appalachian mountains by gorgeous pines, lush green hills and high top peaks — North Carolina was not prepared for the absolute destruction coming their way. There were moms, dads and children sitting in their living room having another family dinner. There were old couples cuddled up on their couch enjoying another night of their favorite television show. There were farmers tending to their land and their animals on the field. There were business owners closing shop, proud of their day after preparing for the busy tourist season. It was just another day in the life of the mountains with what seemed like a rainstorm that surfaced from Hurricane Helene.

Before anyone could wrap their heads around it, the rivers rose, the waters raged, the homes were flooded until entire towns were wiped away. It came with no warning sign. No time to prepare, no alert for large communities to get ready for what was coming. There are children and families still missing. Bodies found and bodies lost. What happened and is still happening in North Carolina is catastrophic and heartbreaking on so many levels.

Destruction can come knock on our door while we’re enjoying a hearty meal without any notice and it will come as such a shocking surprise, that it will tear our entire world apart. It will crack us open in ways that nothing else ever has.

1 Thessalonians 5:3: "For when they say, 'Peace and safety!' then sudden destruction comes upon them, as labor pains upon a pregnant woman. And they will not escape. But you, brethren, are not in darkness, so that this day should overtake you as a thief. You are all children of light and of the day; we do not belong to darkness and night. Therefore, be on your guard, not asleep like others but let us watch and be sober.”

It would be silly to look at others suffering and think to yourself “that could never be me.” No one person can bypass the living human experience. We must not be asleep or naive to the darkness that lives in this world. Perhaps destruction can also be looked at as a gift from God for humanity to wake up. To prepare our minds, body, hearts and Spirit through disciplined devoted daily practice. To train our minds to be present so it can consciously make decisions for the betterment of our well-being and those around us. To walk on this Earth wide awake filled with such wisdom that we do not succumb to the drunkenness of our culture. To spend more time in quietude with God so we can listen and heed to the very special and specific calls that He has for each one of us.

Leading with our humanity.

The most beautiful thing about absolute destruction is watching people come together in the aftermath. It is in destruction that we get to witness people lead with their humanity and the love felt in the aftermath alone has been overwhelming. Communities came together, transcending differences, to support each other in the face of utter devastation. Neighbors opened up their homes to those displaced, sharing food, resources, warmth and comfort. Volunteers from all walks of life across multiple states locked arms, forming networks of support to distribute supplies, provide medical care, and help with recovery efforts. Private non-profit civilian groups like Aerial Recovery Group organizing people and helicopters to save hundreds of lives when there was no active response from their local government. Local businesses and organizations collaborated, demonstrating an incredible spirit of generosity in a time of need.

Stories of faith and hope emerged above the raging flooded waters—people sharing their experiences of loss and recovery, finding strength in each other. This co-created collective effort reminded us of our how connected we truly are. That we bleed and cry tears the same color.

In a time of crisis, I have watched compassion flourish, creating bonds that will last long after the storms have passed.

I came across a post in a local Facebook group from a woman that said:

“HELP NEEDED: our new friend Brandon lives in west Bradenton. He became our friend because he dropped off gas to our neighbor Steve. Steve let us know about the gas drop off (we’ve become best friends with our neighbors through all the chaos - none of us have power still and we’ve been a support system to one another

ANYWAYS Brandon who was a hero by giving us some gas, has lost his entire house. He needs MAJOR help. Preston and I are heading out there tomorrow and we are trying to gather a team of people to show up and help Brandon! Here he is being our hero and then we find out he tried to save his neighbors life and risked his life jumping into water with electrical wires and she still died. He lost everything

PLEASE MESSAGE ME OR COMMENT! Let’s help Brandon! This is a photo from this morning of our neighbor Steve on the left and Brandon on the right! I made them iced lattes after getting gas and plugging our generator in! Ps. We are good. We’ve been sleeping in tents in our yard to stay cool. Thank you for everyone who’s checked in!”

I was touched by this post which reached over 1.5 thousand views of people helping people even when they had nothing. The next morning, my husband, daughter and I were the first people to show up at this man’s door step along with the couple. Within 4 hours, we were able empty the contents of the home to the road, clear up debris and drywall remains, clear out the backyard and branches and large piles of consolidated on the side of the road. Another volunteer showed up with food made from Mercy Chefs which was passed out to all the neighbors who also lost their entire home. To be in action, on the field, helping those who need it was such a resourceful way to transform energy from sadness into joy.

I was touched by the couple who had organized it especially when I learned that they haven’t had power for over a week and are sleeping in a tent in their backyard with their two dogs.

Our humanity is what keeps us going.

It’s what keeps love alive — even in the face of destruction.

A grateful heart cures sadness

No matter what you’re going through, leaning into gratitude will cure it. Gratitude isn’t just some wonky donky trendy verse in life; Gratitude is a daily practice, that takes effort on our part. Gratitude is a practice that brings anyone into the present moment. When we are grateful, we are not comparing ourselves or our situation to the person next to us. When we are grateful, we are not thinking far into the future, or overthinking different scenarios in our mind of how something might turn out— what the outcome might be. When we are grateful, we are completely consumed by the present moment. It absorbs us and we can feel the difference in our bodies. When we are grateful, we do not blame, we do not judge, we do not idol. We are simply happy with who we are and what we have all while knowing that we are a work in progress.

After the hurricane, when we spoke to our neighbors who did not evacuate, they said there is loud howling like the sound of a freight train going over their house. Then it got extremely quiet - so quiet and so still, you could hear a needle drop. Others who talked described it as peaceful experience. Then within a few minutes, the experience is interrupted by loud noises, trees snapping, items banging and clashing.

They realized that they were in the eye of the storm.

What a beautiful reminder from Mother Nature that we can also be the eye in the center of the storms of life.

What a beautiful reminder that even in the midst of chaos and destruction, we can maintain a graceful stature of peace.

We can show up with centeredness and compassion.

To love ourselves and our neighbors through it all.

Whether this storm was from Mother Nature only, or perhaps geo-engineered by manmade forces — it did something powerful that uplifted us more than just another day.

It brought us together and in a time of division and separatism, it showed us how connected we truly are.

That we are one nation, under God.

As we weather the storms of life, we all come to realize we’re in it together and we can’t possibly do it without each other.

Through pain, loss, and heartache; we have become the source of healing for each other.

And we will continue to walk each other Home.

Until next time. 🍵

Warmly,

A house in Venice Beach FL.

I do not own any credits to this photo. It was in a local FB group

Brandon’s house was emptied down to crumbs of drywall