Terrors overtake him like a flood; a tempest snatches him away in the night. –Job 27:20, NIV
Starting the first of June, everybody in Puerto Rico would be subjected to the terrible, infamous, and horrible conditions of hurricane season. For six months, news media, police, bomberos, astrologers and FEMA would subject the Puerto Rican populace with already-stretched and tired prep reminders.
Always have a first-aid kit, especially in big houses, schools, churches, and offices.
Cover your glass doors and windows before a hurricane strikes.
Evacuate your house if it’s located on a high-risk flood zone.
Don’t let your children touch anything after a hurricane, especially if they’re eerily close to power lines or fallen trees.
Y’know. The same stuff each year.
Then a sorta-hurricane (which in reality was a tropical storm) would pop up, forcing government closedowns, impromptu shelters, waterspouts in Vieques and dead gringos in Culebra. The supermarkets are full, panaderías are booming, and schoolchildren are rejoicing on the inside. And their mothers ask God why He let her get married, while her husband shamelessly buys extra beer supplies because this storm could be “the big one”, and he has to be prepared for everything.
Then the winds blow, but nothing happens.
The governor is forced to freeze taxes if only for a brief moment, only for DACO to figure out people are having the time of their lives buying themselves iPods, iPads, laptops and 3=D television sets. Weird…and ironic.
For a week, the news would show how government inexpedience caused numerous problems that could have been avoided. Infrastructure sucks. Emergency equipment sucks. Government sucks; at least, they would favor that.
Thank God we were lucky! Our house never flooded so horribly –I believe, indeed, it never flooded as in other places. In the mountains, landslides would happen, leaving many without houses, transportation, or communication. In the beaches, waterspouts would turn into tornadoes. Rivers would reclaim their spots, forcing people to find other ways. No beaches, no lanchas, no rivers. Nothing.
We were blessed. We were always blessed. It was a minor annoyance compared with the horrors of other Caribbean neighbors, who surely had it rough. Then life returns to normal, and we’d look at how the storm would ravage our friends and family in Florida. It was always 50/50: some days it would, some days it wouldn't The floods wouldn't worry me as much...But they still concern me.
Every day we deal with floods. Floods of information, floods of disaster, floods of pain, and horror, too. They don't seem to quit, not even at the slightest chance. I can't afford to lose everything I have-it's not much, but I can't lose it. It's too valuable for anything to be swept away like this!
The world drowns like before. I drown like before. I drown slowly like before. I want to drown like before. But something pulls me tightly, softly, quickly.
I know I won’t drown. God won't let me drown.