If you don’t live in or near Iowa, or didn’t see this on the national news, you may not know that many areas of our state were recently devastated by something that most of us had never even heard of – but experienced firsthand a couple of Mondays ago. A derecho. A WHAT??
First a definition from the folks at Merriam-Webster: derecho – a large fast-moving complex of thunderstorms with powerful straight-line winds that cause widespread destruction.
Even that definition feels like an understatement after hearing about OUR widespread devastation. Here’s just a sampling of what we experienced:
- One third of Iowa’s crops were destroyed – 13 million acres – not to mention so many grain bins to store the crops.
- We had ½ million people without power after the storm hit – and still have 28,000 without power almost 10 days past the storm.
- Most recent estimates from the National Weather Service estimated the winds in eastern Iowa reached 140 mph. That’s equivalent to an F-3 tornado.
- Our governor is requesting almost $4 BILLION in aid because of the widespread devastation.
I know there are many more statistics I could share, but I think you get the idea. It’s the most debilitating weather event I’ve experienced in my life. I’d like to tell you my personal story through this storm. And, as always, some lessons I learned that I want to share with you all.
I was working in my office the morning of Monday, August 10th when I noticed the sky turning dark and the wind picking up. So, I quickly brought in my garbage bin and let the dogs out to go potty. Then it hit with a fury. Heavy winds and heavy rains. I saw yard items blowing across my yard, including some of my own that I will never see again.
Then my lights started to flicker, and then they went out completely. Not a big deal. I’m in the middle of a decent-sized metropolitan area, and in a fairly new development. It’s 11 a.m. and I have full faith in MidAmerican Energy.
But they didn’t come back on and I started to realize how isolated I had just become. My cordless phones didn’t work. I got Verizon error messages when I tried to call out on my cell phone. I could text, but my batteries weren’t fully charged, and I had no way to recharge them. Other than keep the car running in a closed garage…see below.
My car was at the dealership and I had a loaner in my garage, which I couldn’t open without power. If I pulled the cord, I didn’t know how I could re-secure the garage door, so I abandoned that idea. Now I also can’t go anywhere.
What about food? I Googled how long it would last in a refrigerator and the FDA said 4 hours. I’d passed that mark, so I began to figure out what I could eat without power. I had a banana, bread, apples, peanut butter, popcorn and, of course, my mini-Hershey candy bars. Not bad for a couple of meals and then I’d be in trouble.
So add this to the isolation of widowhood and the pandemic and I went on a quick spiral down, ending in this crazy thought, “What if I die here and nobody will even know?” I do realize how ridiculous that sounds NOW, but at the time, it legitimately reflected my sense of doom, especially as nighttime settled in.
I’m purposely leaving out a bunch of middle events because they don’t have much bearing on this story, even though some were pretty funny. Maybe another time. Approximately 24 hours after the power went out, it mercifully came back on.
NOW, I was finally able to catch up with the news and with others in my community. I started seeing the extent of the devastation across most of the state. And I went out in my yard to survey any damage. Bottom line, I had virtually none. A few branches in the back yard. A few missing yard ornaments. That’s it.
So my response, especially in light of the rest of the state, was GRATITUDE! I escaped virtually unscathed other than the day without power.
I realized much of my gratitude stemmed from the fact that I could compare my situation to those who had it SO much worse. Is that a legitimate reason to be grateful? Because others have it worse? It certainly can be. But not always.
Question for you – how many of you, as children, were told by your parents about the starving children in China when you refused to eat something disgusting on your dinner plate? Definitely me. My response (sometimes out loud) was, “Then why don’t we ship these vegetables over to China?”
The point is that the starving Chinese children’s plight didn’t make me want to eat those veggies. My “suffering” was unaffected by those who clearly suffered more.
I started thinking about this analogy in relationship to my derecho experience. I know, without a doubt, that many people in the state suffered more than I did – and thousands are still struggling with the aftereffects of that super storm.
I truly grieved for the devastation that so many were suffering through. And yet, despite my sympathy, I couldn’t deny how panicked I felt in my own isolated situation. Conflicting emotions, for sure. And then I realized, it was one more example of something I share through my ministry.
Joy and sorrow co-exist in this fallen world. And it’s imperative to acknowledge BOTH of them. Excluding one or the other means you’re denying the full reality of your situation.
My derecho experience was a “mini-example” of this. Yes, I was grateful (joyful) that my situation was relatively trouble-free. But it was also essential that my troubles (sorrow) weren’t minimized or disregarded.
Because we live in this sinful, fallen world, we absolutely will experience sorrow and grieving. Own it. But then look for the silver lining – and joy – which is ALWAYS present if you search for it with a grateful heart.
I end with the scripture text that exemplifies this season of my life. And if you’re all honest with yourselves, I wouldn’t be surprised if you could claim it as well.
In this world, you will have trouble.
But take heart; I have overcome the world.
John 16:33