No, that's ridiculous. Those things don't make for the kind of tired we've felt this week. Our tired is because we've been watching non-stop coverage of the damage Hurricane Harvey did to our beloved Texas coast. We're tired because of the emails, the emotions, the calls, the texts, the images, the videos, the tweets and all the social media posts we've been following this week.
But let me be clear, our tired pales to what family, dear friends and work colleagues have suffered through and experienced this week. When water is a foot or two deep in your home, when your roof is leaking, when your power is out, when your car is underwater, when you can't get to the grocery store and when you worry if the water is going to recede in time so that releasing water from the reservoirs doesn't affect you, you are truly tired.
I've cried this week and been so sad. I've prayed. Our family has made financial contributions to disaster relief organizations and we've bought needed items for those staying at shelters.
Again, my tired and my family's tired is not the tired those in Houston, Rockport, Port Aransas, Beaumont and all the towns in between have felt.
It's the first week of football season so usually our fourth parts are dedicated to prepping for game day. Planning outfits, arranging babysitters and hanging burlap door hangers in the shape of footballs for both G's high school and my precious Bears are how fourth parts during football season should be spent.
This week's fourth parts have been spent figuring out where to give money, what t-shirt I should buy to show I support recovery efforts and where to buy gas.
Oh, yes, because of potential damage to refineries in the gulf -- thanks Harvey -- gas getting to us has been slower than usual. And, media or no media -- the industry is now so readily blamed for everything (an industry of which I was a part of and still claim as my first love) -- people made a run to gas up.
Let's be clear. G Adams is quite a preparation kind of guy, so we had gas in the cars before the hurricane hit. With a week of driving under our belt, we needed gas. OK, I had around 1/3 of a tank and so did G, but still, we needed gas. As did all of San Antonio and the surrounding areas. You know what that demand means . . .a gas
Each and every gas station I drove by had those little yellow, plastic bags wrapped over the pumps indicating . . .
At work on Friday, a colleague (and friend) and I used gasbuddy to track stations with fuel. That site wasn't really my buddy, but after worrying and having a few raised voice kind of conversations with my husband, we found a gas station. The downtown HEB had gas and a short wait. We couldn't get there fast enough. I waited all of 16 minutes to fill my tank (I think I put in around 13 gallons) and drive off to head home.
Whew. That emotional roller coaster of wondering when, where and how I was going to get gas wore me out. I am tired.
It's been a week. We are worn out. Please know, I know, we have not experienced the tired so many in Texas have. My heart breaks over the tragedy and loss. Bible verses and hymns are there to claim, but how do they truly soothe.
Each morning, the girls and I do a kids version of Jesus Calling. I do my own and then, we read their version together. Yesterday, when we had no more adrenaline and first week of school excitement to get us up in the morning, the devotion reminded us of depending and leaning on Jesus for strength and guidance. 'He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. . . but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.' Thanks Isaiah. That wrap up of chapter 40 helps. Chapter 40 actually begins what is known as the Book of Comfort portion of Isaiah. It was Isaiah's message of indicating God's people and the exile was over. It was about comfort.
Words are words, I know. A t-shirt with Texas Forever, Texas Strong or We are One is just a shirt with words. No matter where the proceeds go and no matter what color, cut or the sleeve length is, a t-shirt is just a t-shirt. Yet, for some reason, I became obsessed with trying to find 'the one' that I really liked. At one point during the day, I even said out loud, 'it's a shirt so who cares.'
Then, I bought one. Maybe the search for the shirt took the place of my worrisome search for gasoline. Maybe the hunt for the right words that reflected how I felt about the hurricane and its' aftermath was a substitute for my hunting for a picture of our cherished Island Retreat to see if there was damage. Maybe my looking for the right charity for the t-shirt proceeds to support was my attempt at soothing those who all I could offer up was prayer because I couldn't take them a hot meal or rip out wet dry wall.
Maybe that's what Isaiah did when he wrote about hoping in the Lord. Maybe he wanted the nation of Israel to stop searching for help on their own and so he wrote the words of comfort.
The t-shirt I ordered reads 'We are One.' That message of unity spoke to me and I believe, it shares what I want to do. I want those who have had such loss to know that I will stand with them and be with them and support them and help them as best I can.
When it was finally my turn at the pump this afternoon, and I got out to start the gassing up process, I noticed it was quiet. Yeah, there were engines running and people driving around, but it seemed so still. It wasn't a harried experience like I had seen on television or read about. People were pleasant, waving to each other and smiling.
Was this our chance to remember and reflect that God does provide our strength and is our portion.
Was it a reminder that we should 'go out in joy and be led forth in peace.'
Was it a moment where I knew my search should not be for the perfect t-shirt or gas station but, rather for that rest in Christ where the peace that passes all understanding can be found so that I can not grow weary.
And, not experience a shortage or outage in my spirit and walk with Him.
No comments:
Post a Comment