Love's Like a Hurricane

For the past two nights, I have slept, or rather tried to sleep, in the midst of howling wind – screeching and wailing in the most sepulchrally dismal manner. The wind blew so hard that the house shook, vibrated, throbbed. This week has dripped constantly with gloom and grey and wetness. On Wednesday as the storm brewed and gathered strength, the electricity continually flickered on and off and the internet connection was shaky at best. Each day has been progressively colder and rainier until it reached a climax in the darkest hours of Wednesday night and throughout all of yesterday. Crashing noises perpetrated by the brute force of the wind smacking buildings, trees, windows, branches, tin roofs and metal bars resounded in the murkiness. The sheer wetness that blanketed the Island of Hispaniola oozed and seeped unstoppably through the cracks of the walls and filled every corner with a bleary and thick storminess.

There is a hurricane, and it is raging through the ocean and the effects of its very nature are reaching far and wide and consuming this part of the world with its fury. At the eerie sound of the wind, sounding like a giant, full of anger, like the sound of a man who has been greatly wounded and unjustly treated demanding retribution. Raging. Livid. Wild. I lay awake staring at the curtains that thrashed in the window, and wanted to be with my children, each of them. I wondered what they were thinking, if they were sleeping, if they were scared, if they were safe, if they were having nightmares induced by the howling wind and the pounding rain. If it weren't for my kids, though, I would have fully enjoyed the glory of the storm.

The next day, we were stuck at the Toddler House. Everything was shut down. No school. No church. No babies the whole day long. It was the longest I had gone without seeing my babies since getting to Haiti. I occupied myself decently well, but I couldn't stop thinking about them and what they were doing, and if they were eating well and napping well and having a good day and if they realized I was gone or if they were oblivious to the fact. I read a lot. I found a plethora of new vocabulary in my book and made multi-colored vocab flash cards and learned seventeen new words. I scrubbed the floor of our room. I organized all my stuff. My roomies and I watched Deja Vu which is an absolutely terrifying and downright befuddling movie and I apologize to all who were present for my somewhat violently vocal reactions. Molly made us delicious cornbread with potato soup for dinner. My roomies and I messed around with the karoke machine. It was exceedingly fun; especially when we sang the Christmas songs. I read some more, and thought about my kids some more, and looked at pictures of my kids, and prayed for my kids, and stood on the balcony and gazed longingly in the direction of the Main House and missed my kids. It really was hard for me to be without them for thirty-six hours. I cannot fathom how hard life will be when they are out of my life indefinitely.

As I stood on the balcony, awed by the sheer force of the wind and the water, the lyrics of How He Loves echoed in my head. He is jealous for me. Love's like a hurricane, I am a tree, bending beneath the weight of this wind and mercy... That is one strong love. We didn't even get hit by the hurricane, and yet the sheer power of this storm far surpasses most storms that frequent the Michigan. And it's the Love that I will struggle to trust when I bid these children farewell in just ten more days.