Within last six weeks, that gusty quartet comprised of Charley, Frances, Ivan and Jeanne has lustily serenaded Florida. A repeat performance is not in foreseeable forecast - I hope.
It is not that I do not appreciate good music; it is because I do appreciate good music that I do not wish for a comeback of this quartet. The problem this quartet had, which many musical groups have, is they usually try to drown out other ones in group.
The damage in life and property during these last six weeks is beyond computation. The government has put a price on damage but they are only guessing at this point, plus they do not factor in horrendous damage to human spirit.
Not a few people will leave Florida to some safer, hurricane-free state (like Washington), leaving rest of us to weather storms in future. As for my wife and me, Florida is our prelude to heaven. The angels that will carry me to "Abraham's Bosom" already have my address and, good Lord willing and creek don't rise, I'll be right here when they make their angelic appearance. I just hope they are not as noisy as quartet we've had lately.
These storms were devastating to be sure and my prayers go to all hurricane victims, whatever their damage in life and property. I'm sure many stories of heroism will emerge from rubble of these disasters.
In spite of all modern technology and gadget sophistication, we bow in reverence to nature in face of a hurricane. This is an encouragement for all to look higher than man for help in troubled times. Some do not know who that "Higher Power" is, but I surely do.
As Gracious Mistress of Parsonage and Yours Truly huddled by kerosene lantern, listening to hurricane howl outside, a thought from Bible gently blew into my inquiring mind. "The Lord hath his way in whirlwind and in storm, and clouds are dust of his feet." (Nahum 1:3 KJV.)
No matter how bad it looks, God always has His way in every circumstance or problem, which brings a lot of comfort to me during these traumatic days.
Then I entertained a marvelous thought. The next time one of my friends makes a snide remark to effect of my being long-winded, I will only say one word - Charley-Frances-Ivan-Jeanne, or CFIJ, for short.
I grant you, I have plenty of wind, as length of my sermons will attest, but compared to hurricanes like CFIJ, I cannot blow out a candle. My friends will have to accede this point to me.
Although, contrary to some opinion, no link exists between a hurricane and me, I think I did find a suitable comparison. In my mind, only thing to measure up to a hurricane in velocity is a politician.