Actually, this should probably be Conducting 101, but let’s stretch a point this morning.  Meanwhile you are sitting there wondering what in the world an ictus is and why you should care.

              The ictus is the point in the conductor’s pattern where the actual beat occurs.  If you are tapping your toes to the music, the ictus occurs when your foot hits the ground.

              My conducting professor would have a cow if he saw most of the conducting patterns we see on Sunday mornings.  Not because they are “incorrect,” but because the ictus usually occurs up around the song leader’s ear, when it should be at his waist.  But few of my brethren are professional musicians, so who cares where the ictus is, as long as there is one? 

              That ictus, that stable underlying pulse, must be visible and steady so that we know when to sing.  What drives me crazy is when a leader just waves his arm on each word, rather than each beat, and expects us to read his mind about when the next one is coming.  Give me an ictus!  Even if you begin an accelerando (gradually speeding up) or a ritardando (gradually slowing down), we can still anticipate when a beat is coming and stay together as long as there is an ictus in your pattern.  If you’re just beating words instead of beats, who knows when it will come?

              Of course, the group has to be watching the leader for any of it to work at all.  Funny how the ones who recite, “Let all things be done decently and in order,” will sing what they want when they want, regardless what the leader is doing, and do it loudly enough that they take half the congregation with them.  But don’t get me started…

              God is the ictus in a Christian’s life.  [The Lord] is the stability in your times, Isaiah said, 33:6.  That word is the same word translated “faithfulness” in many other passages.  God’s faithfulness endures forever, Psa 117:2.

              Interestingly enough, it is also the word “steady” in Ex 17:12.  Moses lifted up his hands as the people fought the Amalekites, but as his strength failed and they sagged, Aaron and Hur sat him on a rock and held his hands “steady” for him until the battle was over.  God holds his hands steadily on high as we fight our battles.  That is how we defeat Satan and overcome sin.  It’s how we handle trials and tribulations—with the steady helping hand of a God who never wavers. 

              Even if you aren’t a trained musician you can feel the beat.  That’s why your toes tap and your hands clap.  It’s why your head bounces when you hear a tune you enjoy, but none of it matters if you aren’t watching the leader.

              God doesn’t leave you wondering when the next beat will come.  Look for the ictus as He leads you.  Sometimes it may slow as the toils of life bog you down, but it will not leave you behind fending for yourself.  Sometimes it may speed up as you run from the Enemy, but it is always there for the ones who care to watch and be led. 

              I often listen to music when I exercise.  I find I can go longer and do more than just counting repetitions.  If you are in a particularly difficult time of life, let God’s ictus help you put one step in front of the other, again and again and again, until you have finally reached the end of the trial.  Let it help you keep moving until you achieve the final goal.  God’s steady, stable, faithful hand will lead you on, until you sing that final triumphant note in the song of life.
 
 I will sing of the steadfast love of the LORD, forever; with my mouth I will make known your faithfulness to all generations. For I said, "Steadfast love will be built up forever; in the heavens you will establish your faithfulness." Psa 89:1-2.
 
Dene Ward
 

Getting old is the pits or, as is popular to say among my friends, it isn’t for wimps. 

              I remember when I used to run 30 miles a week and exercise another 5 hours besides.  I lifted light weights and did aerobics and the standard floor exercises for abs and glutes and those floppy chicken wings on the back of your arms—triceps, I think they’re called.  I didn’t like the notion of waving hello to the people in front of me and having those things wave goodbye to the people behind me at the same time.

              Now, due to doctor’s orders, I have to limit how much I pick up, how long I bend over, and how much and how strenuous the activity I participate in.  Good-bye slim, svelte body (as much as it ever could be with my genes), and hello floppy chicken wings.  Now I can only do a little and boy, does it show—and hurt!

              I was doing a little step work the other day (very little) when a knife-sharp stab stopped me in my tracks.  Yeow!  What was that?  So I stepped up again and found out immediately—it was something deep inside my knee.  I stopped and thought.

              In all that exercising over the years I have learned at least a little bit about it.  For example, if you change the angle of your body, suddenly you feel the work in a different muscle, sometimes on a completely different part of your body.  When I took that step up, I was using nothing but my knee, a very fragile joint—how many professional athletes have had their careers cut short with a knee injury?  Lifting that much weight over and over and over, even for just the ten minutes I allowed it, was too much for that little joint to bear alone. 

              So I focused on changing the working muscle.  All it took was putting the entire foot on the step instead of just my toes, and pushing up from my heel on each repetition.  Suddenly, the large muscle mass from my legs and up through the small of my back was doing all the work (especially that extra large muscle), and my knee scarcely hurt at all.  Ha!  I finished my allotment of sweating for the day with no pain, and only a mild ache where it really needed to be aching in the first place.

              That’s exactly what happens to us when we try to bear our burdens alone.  All we are is a fragile little knee joint, when what we need is a huge mass of muscle.  Cast your burden on the Lord and he will sustain you, David said in Psa 55:22.  Do you think that strong warrior didn’t need help at times?  But David was greatly distressed…[and he] strengthened himself in the Lord his God, 1 Sam 30:6.  David was not too macho to know when he needed help and where to get it.

              Too many times we try to gain strength from everything but God--money, portfolios, annuities, doctors, self-help programs, counseling, networking, anything as long as we don’t have to confess a reliance on God.  It isn’t weak to depend upon your Almighty Creator—it’s wisdom and good common sense.  The Lord is my helper, I will not fear; what can man do to me? asked the Hebrew writer in 13:6.  Indeed, not only is what man can do to you nothing compared to the Lord’s power, what he can do for you is even less. 

              When life starts stabbing you in the heart with pain, anxiety, and distress shift your focus.  Remember who best can bear the weight of sin and woes, and let Him make that burden easy enough for you to handle.  I still had to use my knees that day, but they certainly felt a lot better than they did before, and even better the next morning.  By yourself, you will do nothing but ruin your career (Eph 4:1) with a knee injury, but you and the Lord can handle anything.
 
Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. 1 Peter 5:6-7
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.

A little while back I had one of those days. The first guy I delivered to answered the door wearing only his boxer-briefs. Not exactly a pleasant sight. A little while later, I delivered to a hotel room, and the guy apparently thought we would take longer than we did, because I caught him in the shower. In fact, I was about to leave when he opened the door covered only in soap and one of those too small hotel towels. As I walked back to my car I thought, “So that’s how it’s going to go today, huh? Well, if I have to deliver to undressed people, why can’t they at least be attractive women instead of dudes?” Then, before I could even chide myself for that thought, I remembered the last thing I prayed for before I began my day. I prayed that God would protect me from temptation. He sure answered that one with a resounding YES! There was NO temptation involved in what I saw that day, let me tell you. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, nor was it what I had in mind, but God did protect me from temptation that day.

That reminded me that sometimes God does things for our own good that isn’t exactly pleasant at the moment. An example would be James 1:2-4:

“Count it all joy, my brethren, when you fall into manifold temptations knowing that the proving of your faith works patience. And let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and entire, lacking in nothing.”

The only way to receive patience is to go through trials. You don’t get callouses on your hands without first getting blisters and you don’t get patience/steadfastness without going through trials. A Christian can’t be complete or perfect as God wants him without patience. This is why James says that trials should be met with rejoicing: they are the only path to being a complete Christian. But they are not pleasant at the time.

The best passage to explain what I am talking about is in Hebrews 12. The anonymous writer is explaining that God will chastise His children as necessary to make them better. He uses earthly fathers as an example, saying we still honor our dads even though they chastised us as they saw fit, so we should surely honor God during chastisement since He actually knows what He is doing and is doing it specifically for our good. He sums it up with this:

Heb. 12:11 “All chastening seems for the present to be not joyous but grievous; yet afterward it yields peaceable fruit unto them that have been exercised thereby, even the fruit of righteousness.”

God, in His perfect wisdom and perfect love, will send us trials and tribulations and chastisements to cause us to grow into perfection. The plan is for our good, but boy, does it not feel good when we are going through it! Chastening is never pleasant when it happens. Grievous is a good description. It is for our ultimate good, though, and if we have faith that God truly loves us, we should count it all joy when those chastenings come. They prove that God is still not done with us. That He thinks we are worth the effort, present evidence to the contrary.

We often cite Romans 8:28 (“we know that to them that love God all things work together for good”) but do we understand it? It doesn’t mean we will always be happy here on Earth. It means that God is making sure things work out best for us, i.e. that we get to Heaven to be with Him. Combine Rom. 8:28 with Heb. 12:11 and we understand that, while the present chastening may not be fun, the end result will “work together for good”. This destroys the idea that some have that “God wants me to be happy.” You know, when you show them in the scriptures that they aren’t living their lives right, that according to God’s word, not my judgments, they are sinning and they say, “I know, but God would want me to be happy,” it is as if their happiness outweighs the eternal word of God. I think, based on James 1:2-4, Hebrews 12:4-11, and Romans 8:28 among other passages, that God doesn’t care a whit whether we are happy on this planet or not. Look at the list of the heroes of faith at the end of Hebrews 11 and tell me how many of them seemed happy. God wants us to be joyous in eternity. God wants us to be glorified with Him in eternity. God wants to commune with us in eternity. If it takes unhappiness, if it takes trials, tribulations, chastenings, and sacrifices (and delivering pizza to nearly naked men) to accomplish that, then so be it.

I hope God grants me the strength of faith to be able to count it joy when trials come, because I’d much rather be unhappy for 70 years or so and joyous in eternity than ecstatic in this life and in Hell for eternity.
 
Lucas Ward

What do you do when someone you love is in the middle of a crisis?  Prayer is probably the first thing that comes to mind, but after considering this awhile, I realize that a few other things must come before that.

              First we need to get our lives in order.  The effectual fervent prayer of the righteous avails much, we are told in James 5:16.  If you really care about the ones you are praying for, nothing will keep you from making sure you live a righteous life.  None of us can be righteous by being perfect, but we can all be made righteous by forgiveness.  Usually the only thing standing in the way of that is pride, and pride will form a ceiling past which your prayers cannot travel.  If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear, David wrote in Psa 66:18.  Whatever needs fixing in your life, first get on your knees and fix yourself before you even try to pray for anyone else.

              That one was obvious.  This one not so much.  God will never hear the prayers of a grudge-holder.  So if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift, Matt 5:23-24.  Adam Clarke says, “A religion, the very essence of which is love, cannot suffer at its altars a heart that is revengeful and uncharitable, or which does not use its utmost endeavors to revive love in the heart of another.” 

                Do you know the easiest way to fix this problem?  Stop wearing your feelings on your coatsleeves.  Stop being so easily offended and insulted.  Stop seeing the worst in everything anyone says or does toward you.  Love “does not keep account of evil,” Paul says in 1 Cor 13:5.  “Love covers a multitude of sins,” Peter reminds us in 1 Pet 4:8.  If we weren’t so quick to make something out of every little thing that comes along, maybe more of our prayers would be heard.  “First be reconciled,” Jesus said.  There is a definite order to these things. 

              And the last thing I thought of?  I need to stop distracting those who are praying about this huge crisis with my own petty problems.  I know that it is impossible to overwhelm God—He can handle as many problems as we feel compelled to send his way.  But his people can be overwhelmed.  They can be distracted.  Feeling emotionally swamped can paralyze you, and keep you from the service that others desperately need.  The shepherds shouldn’t have to take time putting band-aids on boo-boos when a couple of other sheep need CPR. 

              So, just for now, while the crisis looms, you and God handle your problems, and God and I will handle mine.  God and even just one of his children are more than a match for any one or any thing.  When any crisis is at hand--I must be aware of priorities, and do my best not to cause other problems.  “Act like a man!” Paul told the Corinthians.  “Man up!” is the current way of putting it, or just, “Grow up!”  During a crisis the last thing the people of God need is someone raising a fuss or whining for attention. 

              I have a friend whom I have known since before I was even old enough to know her.  She needs the prayers and the undivided attention of the saints right now.  I do not want to be the one who fails her.
 
Then Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and prayed to the LORD, saying, "Now, O LORD, please remember how I have walked before you in faithfulness and with a whole heart, and have done what is good in your sight." And Hezekiah wept bitterly. And before Isaiah had gone out of the middle court, the word of the LORD came to him: "Turn back, and say to Hezekiah the leader of my people, Thus says the LORD, the God of David your father: I have heard your prayer; I have seen your tears. Behold, I will heal you…2 Kings 20:2-5.
 
Dene Ward

A few weeks ago we piled into the car and headed off for town.  As we reached the western end of the driveway, we saw a stack of pine limbs, 12-15 feet long and still green, as if someone had simply cut them off and laid them there.  Keith stopped the car and stared .

              "What happened here?"

              We went over it together.  I had been by the spot late the afternoon before and seen only the usual foot high field of grass shaded from the afternoon sun by the line of oaks and wild cherries along the west fence.  We had a few gray clouds that evening, as we do nearly every afternoon and evening in the summer, and maybe a quick shower, but no thunderstorm.  Once the evening deepened into pure night, all was still and warm and humid—nothing unusual at all.  It may be five acres, but the distance from the house near the eastern side and the pines on the west is not really that far.  How had this happened without us knowing it?

            Obviously, a small eddy had blown through the pines, and sixty feet above ground it was stronger than you might imagine had you been standing beneath.  I have seen those eddies before.  Sometimes they stir up the dust out in the field where there is no shelter from the trees, but where the trees are thick, they stay aloft.  For it to tear large green limbs meant it was a strong one, but also localized.  Spread out it would not have done any damage.  And so it left us with a neat pile of limbs that Keith hauled to the fire pit for the coming fall.

              When these eye crises first began to hit me, my whole world turned upside down.  I couldn't keep house or cook, I couldn't teach Bible classes, and I had to close my music studio.  Eventually I missed three months of assemblies because of the pain and the appointments and the surgeries and the medication schedule.  When I did make it back and the announcements began I had a bad moment or two.  That week was a baby shower.  The next week was a wedding.  In two weeks was a potluck.  My poor little me self said, "How can they keep on having fun like this?  Don't they know my world is a shambles?"

              Of course that didn't last, but it did come to the surface.  When you are having your own personal storm, you wonder how anyone else can remain unaffected.  Don't they see how miserable you are and how dire the situation?  Don't they care anything about you at all?  Something selfish inside you wants everyone to cry with you.  Maybe that's where the old saying comes from:  Misery loves company.  I was having my own little storm in a localized area and it wasn't affecting anyone downwind.  Or so it felt.

              Okay, so where do we go with this?  First, I am reminded of the injunction to "Rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep" (Rom 12:15).  We are all to share in one another's burdens.  If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together. (1Cor 12:26).  Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since you also are in the body (Heb 13:3).  Knowing that others care about what is happening to you makes the trials somewhat easier to bear. 

              But there is always, as I said above, the selfishness that must be overcome.  I may be having a storm in my life.  That does not mean that anyone who does not know about it and act like the same storm is ruling their lives doesn't care.  Too many times we act like we have been specially set up to judge others in how they offer their compassion and help.  If it doesn't come when I want and the way I want, they are unloving.  And that of course, can lead to the excuse so many use for leaving the church.  "You didn't come visit me when I was in the hospital.  The elders didn't call, the preacher didn't hold my hand and pray over me, none of the members sent me a card."  Yet, when pressed in the matter you will usually find out one of two things:  the problem wasn't ignored; it was unknown because it was not shared.  Somehow everyone should just "know"—if I have to say anything, they aren't caring enough.  Or, "no one" is a gross exaggeration.

              And it also insinuates that because no one helped me the way I expected and thought they ought to, that I am now excused for any bad behavior.  For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted. (Heb 2:18).  That passage seems to imply that one of the purposes of suffering is so we can learn to help others who are also suffering.  That's what it did for the Lord I claim to be following.  I am supposed to be learning something here, not judging others.  And if I really do learn it, then it becomes my responsibility to do better than the ones I think left me high and dry--not castigating them or using them as an excuse for my own bad conduct, but showing them the way.

              Once my mind cleared that morning, I knew that others were affected by my storm.  They came in droves with hugs, welcoming me back to the assembly.  They had sent me off to difficult surgeries with hugs and money in my pockets for the expenses.  They had fasted and prayed during my scariest operation.  They had taken turns carrying me back and forth to the doctor after Keith ran out of leave time to do it.  That is usually the case when you let your brothers and sisters know your needs, when you share your fears and troubles.  If no one knows you are in a storm, that's your fault entirely.  Don't let a few moments of self-absorption steal the joy of brotherhood.
 
Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. (Gal 6:2)
 
Dene Ward

Last year we made a distressing discovery—the seam sealing tape on the rain fly to our tent had come loose.  Unfortunately, we made this discovery in the middle of the night during a driving rainstorm when water suddenly began pouring on us as we lay in our sleeping bags.

              So before our latest camping trip, we pulled out the fly and set about resealing the tape.  We found out that not all the tape had come undone, just the places where more stress was put on the fly—at the staking points and over the top where it stretched tightly across the tent poles.  I suppose that makes sense.  After all, where is it that your pants are more likely to rip but where and when you stretch those seams the most?  In the back when you bend over.

              That brought to mind the disciples’ request for the Lord to “Increase our faith.”  I had always thought of this as a simple request, sort of a “Help me get better” generic prayer.  Suddenly I thought to check the context.  Maybe there was a reason for the request, maybe those men were under some sort of stress.  So I looked up Luke 17:5 and checked the verses immediately ahead of that one.

              Stress?  Jesus had just given them a laundry list of commands that would have stressed anyone out.

              “Temptation is sure to come,” he begins in verse 1.  Not “may come” or even “will probably come,” but “sure to come.”  If ever a Christian feels stress it is during temptation.  Yes, I think I might need increased faith to handle those times. 

              Then he goes on to talk about those who cause others to stumble.  I suppose nothing stresses me out more than worrying about how what I say or do may affect others, especially since I teach and write so much.  Yes, I need more faith to keep teaching and keep writing, especially when I receive negative reactions or hear of someone who misused what I have said, and even more when I realize I have made a careless word choice.

              Then Jesus tells them to forgive, even if the same person does the same thing over and over and over and over.  This is where, in an almost comedic outcry, we hear them shout, “Lord!  Increase our faith!”  As often as those same men misunderstood and failed to comprehend Jesus’ teaching, they certainly understood the need for faith when it comes to mercy and forgiveness.  We really haven’t reached the pinnacle of that Divine trait until we can say, “I forgive you,” without adding or even thinking, “Again.”

              Look up the other places where we are told to strengthen or increase or add to our faith and you will discover other areas of stress that could trip you up—times when divisions occur, when sinful desires rear their ugly heads, when we need to love the unlovable, when we are told to obey whether we understand it or not.  All of these things can create stress in our lives, and endanger our souls.

              “Pay attention to yourselves,” Jesus told those men in the midst of his teaching (v 3).  Don’t be caught unawares in the middle of a storm.  “Increase your faith” and so be prepared. 
 
We ought always to give thanks to God for you, brothers, as is right, because your faith is growing abundantly, and the love of every one of you for one another is increasing. Therefore we ourselves boast about you in the churches of God for your steadfastness and faith in all your persecutions and in the afflictions that you are enduring. This is evidence of the righteous judgment of God, that you may be considered worthy of the kingdom of God, for which you are also suffering-- 2 Thessalonians 1:3-5.   
 
Dene Ward

In case you don't really understand Irma's magnitude, from east to west, it was 650 miles wide—the Florida peninsula averages 130 miles in width.  15,000,000 people in Florida alone were without power.  25% of the homes in Key West were completely destroyed, another 65% incurred major damage.  70,000 sq miles were impacted by at least tropical storm force winds.  The highest winds recorded were 185 mph.  That speed was maintained for 37 straight hours.  Over six million Floridians were told to evacuate.  Another few million did so voluntarily.  The score calculated by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) when measuring the power of hurricanes was 66.8, compared to 11.1 for Hurricane Harvey, and we all watched the devastation from that one (statistics from "Breaking Down Irma by the Numbers" on architecturaldigest.com).

              That is what we Floridians had to look forward to as Irma approached our coasts.  In the past we have had Category 2 and 3 storms hit the coast and, by the time they reached us, diminish to Category 1 or even mere tropical storm force (which is not as "mere" as it sounds when you are in the middle of it).  This one was to hit as a 5.  Everyone told us it would still be a 3 by the time it reached us.  That is why we counted our home as lost, carefully packing what was most important to us in the car and truck and moving them as far from the trees as we could, out into the field. 

              That is also why we spent the night that Irma came through in the car.  Would the car be blown over with us in it?  Possibly.  But far better that than being crushed under a thousand pound limb falling on the house, or being injured or maimed by the flying glass and debris when the roof blew off.  So as darkness fell and the wind and rain picked up, we scampered out to the car and climbed inside. 

              The backseat was crammed with a cooler and two boxes, so lowering the seat backs for a better sleeping position was minimal.  We clasped hands and said our final "together" prayer, and then did our best to go to sleep, which amounted to me being quiet for Keith, who was being quiet for me, as both of us sat/lay there with our eyes wide open, each praying our own continuous private prayer all night long.

              We had left the porch light on for our trip out into the field.  We are used to utter darkness out here in the country, no traffic lights, street lamps, or passing headlights, so that light was intrusive, but it also gave us a small sense of security.  Imagining what was going on would have been much worse.  Finally we both drifted off out of sheer exhaustion from the days of preparation before as well as a cold we had shared that week, and when I woke again I had to use the flashlight to see my watch.  It was 2:30 and the porch light was out.

              We had no idea what was happening, where the storm was, how strong it was.  Several times in the night, the wind howled a bit more loudly and the car rocked.  What surprised me was that behind those thick clouds a full moon actually filtered through, casting a soft gray light and it was no longer black as pitch as it had been earlier.  Still, we could not tell what was happening.

              After a couple of hours we drifted back off again, rocking in our metal cradle.  At seven, almost as if an alarm had gone off, we both opened our eyes to dim daylight.  We looked out the rain-dribbled windshield and saw a 35 year old manufactured home all in one piece.  No debris, no missing roof, no broken windows.  Lots of yard trash, but no monster limbs crushing anything.  Keith got out into the rain to start up the generator and I flipped on the car radio.  The storm had weakened much more quickly than expected.  If it passed over Gainesville as a Category 1, by the time it reached us, it was to the west and down to tropical storm force winds. 

              Keith came back for me then, and we rolled up our pant legs.  The waters were running off all around us nearly six to eight inches deep as the property drained, but we stood there and hugged each other and shouted a thank you over the slackening wind and rain, tears running down our faces.  God had answered all those prayers, and if you think one thank you was all He got from us, you still don't understand hurricanes and the One who made them.  Even now, over a month later, we are still saying thank you.

              And what did we learn from that?  A question popped up in our minds.  How many times have we said thank you for the sacrifice our Lord made to save our souls in the same fashion we said thank you for his saving our physical home, and a humble one at that?  How many times have we grabbed each other in pure, unadulterated joy and wept real tears over our salvation?  Once, maybe, at our baptism; another time or two when a particular sermon or talk hit us right between the eyes.

              We've been mulling that over for several weeks now.  I hope this week has helped you consider it, too.
 
Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift. (2Cor 9:15)
 
Dene Ward

I remember thinking once when I stepped into my sons' bedroom and saw toys lying everywhere, "It looks like a whirlwind came through here."  Actually it didn't look half that bad.

              When daylight dawned after Irma blew through, the mess was astounding.  Trees had fallen across roads—huge water oaks bigger around than your kitchen table, pine trees taller than telephone poles, or enormous, tree-sized limbs from the live oaks.  Branches, limbs, moss and other air plants, brushwood and smaller sprigs of leaves, all lay across yards and fields.  For some folks shingles littered their property, for others pieces of eaves and white aluminum roof-overs lay twisted across the grass.  For still others, siding and whole roofs lay torn and scattered by the winds.  You could tell where the tornadoes had plowed through—trees lay in every direction like a pile of pickup sticks, their branches stripped bare of leaves.

              The clean-up started immediately.  First order of business was to start the generator so we didn't lose the thousand dollars' worth of food in the freezer and fridge.  It also gave us a couple of outlets for a lamp and a fan.  Then we set up the camp stove on the porch to avoid heating up an un-coolable house, and started the stovetop coffeepot.  After a quick breakfast , it was time to get to work.

             We tried to contact family.  For some reason we had a phone for a few minutes that morning and were able to reach our boys and my mother.  All were well and undamaged.  Then the landline went out and cell service was spotty and downright weird.  My phone kept trying to call out by itself, but of course, it couldn't.  Even on a good day I can only get one bar out here and only next to one window in the house.  Though we had those few outlets next to the fridge and freezer due to the generator, my cell would not charge.  We lost it completely the third day. 

            Then it was time to check on neighbors.  We had heard the whine and rev of chainsaws earlier in the day, and because of them we were able to get down the highway, which was covered in sawdust from the tree and limb removal.  Everyone looked all right so we headed back to our own mess.

           And what do you do?  First, you haul in the water.  Heavy five gallon buckets, one next to each toilet for flushes, trying your best not to slosh it on the laminate floors.  They don't much like pools of water.

            Then you unpack.  All those things we had placed in the truck and car were unloaded, unpacked and put back into place.  Then we started on the outside.

             Keith swept off the roof, which was carpeted with twigs and leaves, and the carport which sat covered in an inch of blown-in water, and caked with mud on the edges.  We toweled off the outdoor furniture and unlashed the garbage cans.  We put the bird feeders back on their poles and filled them up.  Then came the hard part.

            Our garden cart holds about 10 cubic feet, Keith thinks, at least 6 five gallon buckets.  We filled it up half again as high as the walls sixteen times as we traversed the yard, back and forth for two days.  Bend over, lift, and drop; bend over, lift and drop.  Over and over and over until our backs ached and our heads swam from the changing height.  The temperature was slightly better than a usual September day in Florida—88 maybe instead of 93, but the humidity was nearly 100% from all the water everywhere.  It has been my experience with people that you really don't understand that until you have lived in it.  We were without an air conditioner for 9 days.  The doors swelled and became difficult to open and close.  The salt became one huge block, even in those "guaranteed" plastic sealed containers.  The dining chair backs were sticky in our hands and the table was covered with condensation every morning.  The only way to get the bath towels dried out between uses was to hang them in direct sunlight for several hours, praying for a good stiff breeze.  And that's why 88 felt more like 98 and we wound up soaking wet.

             But remember what I said about the usual September day down here?  Normally the 90s don't leave us before October, and even then we might have a day or two when they return, all the way till November, with a heat index over 100.  Yet I have noticed that after every hurricane we get a little break.  A day in the 80s was a reprieve we all needed.  And the weather continued that way for 3 or 4 days before the 90s began to show up again.  By then, for us, the brutal outdoor work was done. 

             I thought of the rainbow then, the one after the flood.  God gave them a sign that such a catastrophe would never happen again.  We know we will have more hurricanes, but we also know that God is aware of our needs.  Maybe those more moderate temperatures are His way of showing us that He cares.  We may be hurt by the warnings He has sent to a people who continually reject Him, but He will still show His mercy in ways that only the righteous may be able to understand.  For me, it led to far less griping about the inconveniences—no power, no running water, no means of communication.  It could have been so much worse, and for others it was, especially in the Caribbean, the Keys and South Florida.  But they, too, felt the cooler air for at least awhile, whether they acknowledged who sent it or not.

            God never promised to keep the storms of life away from us, but He has always promised to be with us as we endure them.
 
​For you have been a stronghold to the poor, a stronghold to the needy in his distress, a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat…(Isa 25:4)
 
Dene Ward

We woke Sunday, September 10, to the bluster of a nor'easter blowing in from the Atlantic to our east off the Jacksonville coast.  The wind tore at the tops of the trees and rain splattered against the house.  "Is this Irma?" I wondered at first, even though I knew it was too early, and soon discovered what it actually was.  From then on, things just got worse as Irma did approach us from the south.  Traffic on the highway ceased.  Children's voices as they played outside stopped.  I have never heard complete silence around this place.  Even before so many others moved in, something was always chirping, tweeting or crowing, mooing, bawling, or screeching.  But not that afternoon.  The birds knew what lay ahead, as did the animals.  Perhaps they even heard what I could not.

              Finally in the darkness we heard her come.  Rain didn't patter on the metal roof, it roared.  It came cruising across the field one white sheet at a time, crashing against the sides of the house like a giant had thrown an equally gigantic bucket of water against us.  It never came straight down.

              Then the winds began to out-roar the rain.  It seemed to start three or four sections over and come closer and closer and closer until it suddenly slammed us, only to start again.  That's when the whumps and thumps started.  The first time it was a limb, as big around as a man's thigh and about 8 feet long.  It missed the house.  The next time it was a slightly smaller limb and further from the house.  The third time it was a clatter as a green branch, the looks and size of a shrub hit the carport roof and bounced off. 

              It continued all night.  The house creaked, the metal screeched, and occasionally something we thought we had secured fell over or slid in the wind.  At 1:10 AM the lights flashed four times, but stayed on.  At 2:30 they went out completely.

              With all that going on, we did not get much sleep that night, but as the morning hours began to dawn, we both finally slept the sleep of exhaustion, hours of preparation and tension both bringing us at least a couple hours of rest.  We woke at 7 when the gray light finally gave us a view of the results.  And then the sounds completely changed.

              Chainsaws started almost immediately, clearing fallen trees from highways and driveways.  Generators roared to life all around us.  It isn't that we live that close to our neighbors, but generators are notoriously noisy monsters.  Big utility trucks rumbled by on the highways, surveying the damage and planning how to fix it.

              We got in the truck and tootled down the highway to check on our neighbors.  We passed mounds of sawdust where fallen trees had already been removed and then came to the Olustee Creek and heard another new sound—water lapping over the bridge.  It became apparent then that this would be a flood like we had never seen in our 35 years here.  Within a day the bridges over the Santa Fe River were inundated and round hay bales in normally dry fields bobbed like corks in the swelling currents.

              And gradually things returned to normal.  By September 12, the birds were back, tweeting in what seemed like joy, flitting through our trees in numbers larger than we had ever seen.  I filled the feeders and they came to celebrate with us—cardinals, chickadees, doves, titmice, blue jays and woodpeckers, and even a wild turkey that sauntered over from the woods to check out the remains of our now scraggly garden.  The storm that had taken so many days to arrive and had flummoxed so many meteorologists as to its path was finally over.

              It seems like nowadays everyone has something stuck in their ears.  If it isn't an earbud, it's a phone.  And at home, we seem afraid to let there be silence in our lives.  The television is always on, or the radio, or the stereo.  I wonder how many people hear what is happening in their world.  I wonder how many were completely freaked out by the things they heard when the power died.  This is life, people.   This is what you are missing. 

              Hearing is important.  Just ask my husband who began losing his at 24 and had his first hearing aid at 27.  Now labeled "profoundly deaf," he can no longer hear when the engine makes a funny noise in the car and assess it.  He cannot hear the smoke alarm or the ringing telephone.  We cannot whisper at night when the lights are out.  Once it's dark and he can no longer read my lips, we're done.  He would have loved to hear his children's voices and understood what they were saying.   And here the world goes, deafening itself to the sounds the Creator gave us to help us, to protect us, even to save us.

              And the Spirit bade me go with them, making no distinction. And these six brethren also accompanied me; and we entered into the man's house: and he told us how he had seen the angel standing in his house, and saying, Send to Joppa, and fetch Simon, whose surname is Peter; who shall speak unto you words, whereby you shall be saved, you and all your house. (Acts 11:12-14)

              So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ. (Rom 10:17)

              It isn't just modern electronics that steal our hearing, it's the machinations of Satan who lies to us, who uses our culture and our selfishness against us.  That passage in Romans is followed by something we need to hear as well.  "Haven't they heard?  Yes, they have.  Didn't they understand?" but the answer to the problem is given in verse 20:  All day long I have held my hands out to a disobedient and contrary people."

              Open your ears to the Word of God and listen.  Those verses may have been said about the Jews, but that doesn't mean they cannot be true about us as well.
 
“Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. ​Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; hear, that your soul may live; and I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David. (Isa 55:1-3)
 
Dene Ward

Six days before Irma arrived, we stood in line at Publix with our usual week's worth of groceries.  It was 8 AM on a Tuesday.  Behind us a lady guarded her cart like a Doberman, a cart crammed and stacked with as many cases of water bottles as it would hold.  In the aisle next to us another did the same.

              The next day nearly every store of every type in town was out of bottled water.  We had to stop at one of them and a lady stood shouting frantically into her phone, "They're totally out!  What are we going to do?" 
After she hung up, Keith offered, "Ma'am?  There is still plenty of water from the tap in your kitchen sink."

                Which is exactly what we did—pull the 7 or 8 clean, empty gallon milk jugs that we keep in the shed and fill them up, along with my umpteen-quart pressure canner for drinking water and tooth brushing.  Then we filled a dozen five gallon buckets outside, plus a forty gallon barrel to use for flushes, baths, and dishwashing.  All we had to do was filter them through a cloth to get our dirt and leaves when it was time to use them. 

               I have never seen Florida prepare for a hurricane like she did for Irma.  Maybe it was the pictures coming out of Houston from hurricane Harvey a few weeks before.  Maybe it was the 185 mph winds.  Or maybe it was the sheer size of the storm.  At one point it covered the whole state except for the far western panhandle.

               I have never seen so many empty shelves in the stores.  I haven't seen long lines at the gas pumps since the gas shortage of the 1970s.  I have certainly never seen the National Guard handling those long lines when only one station out of 5 was open at an exit, the waiting cars trailing back down the off-ramp to the interstate itself.  I have never seen the evacuations, with the interstate at one point being opened to northbound traffic on both sides.

             "This is the one we never wanted to see," I heard more than one meteorologist say.  "You'd better prepare, Florida."  And prepare she did, all 21 million of her.

              And somewhere along the way I couldn't help but wonder, "Shouldn't we be preparing for the Lord this way?"  You may think you have plenty of time, but listen—for you, the Lord comes the day you die.  Once your life here is over, there are no second chances.

              And that life can end in a flash.  I have lost two cousins to automobile accidents, one in his 20s and the other at 16.  I have lost several close friends to disease in their 40s and 50s.  You just never know.

             And then there is this:  every day the Lord doesn't come is a day closer to the day He will.  And just like Irma finally arrived, so will He.

             Be prepared.
 
“Then the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. For when the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them, but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, they all became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a cry, ‘Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’ Then all those virgins rose and trimmed their lamps. And the foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise answered, saying, ‘Since there will not be enough for us and for you, go rather to the dealers and buy for yourselves.’ And while they were going to buy, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went in with him to the marriage feast, and the door was shut. Afterward the other virgins came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’ ​But he answered, ‘Truly, I say to you, I do not know you.’ ​Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour. (Matt 25:1-13)
 
Dene Ward