I met Doris at my first writer’s conference. Little did we know that more meetings and long chats on the phone lay in our future. To this day, Doris and I support one another in “all things” writing and life. She understands first-hand that joy is worth fighting for, especially when darkness threatens to bring us down.
Evelyn Sherwood
I will never forget the events of September 29, 2022. Hurricane Ian hooked around Florida’s west coast and was heading to the east coast to pay us a visit. My husband Brian and I weren’t worried—it wasn’t a direct hit and not our first hurricane rodeo. But what we didn’t know then was this rodeo would be vastly different.
The night Ian arrived, we slept in the living room since high winds and towering trees put our bedrooms at risk. We expected wind damage and power outages as usual, but to our surprise, the power stayed on.
Phew, we were good to go. Power, chips, salsa, movies—this was going to be a breeze—until it wasn’t. At approximately 4:00 am, I awoke to get a drink of water, and as I swung my legs around to step off the couch, my feet splashed down into an icy puddle spreading rapidly across the floor.
My first thought was the toilets were overflowing. I yelled to my husband, and as I ran to the hallway bathroom to check, Brian ran to the front door and instinctively flung it open. He was met with a deluge of floodwater, as if a dam had broken just beyond our front door.
At this point, we were in a state of shock and disbelief, running on adrenaline. Brian sloshed his way to the breaker box to cut the power, saving us from electrocution as the water level rose above the electrical outlets.
Standing in the doorway at daybreak, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was as if our entire neighborhood had been dropped into the middle of a murky lake. Our vehicles were taking on water and there was no way out. Then, after several hours of praying, calling family, and notifying our insurance company, God sent a rescue crew.
We heard a knock at the door, and there stood our nephew, his wife, and a friend. Our nephew had parked his truck on higher ground, and all three had braved flooded streets on foot to get to us. We loaded our traumatized tabby cat into the pet carrier and pulled together a few belongings, stuffing them into trash bags to keep them dry. Thankfully, most of our family lived nearby, so we had welcoming homes to go to.
Forty-eight hours later, we ventured back to our home. The water had receded but left behind unimaginable devastation. Immediately, my husband began breaking out walls to destroy the moist, dark breeding ground mold thrives in. It was the beginning of a long journey of restoration. Friends graciously offered their travel trailer, and we lived in it in our driveway for several months.
Throughout the weeks of clean-up efforts, God sent love notes to me along the way. Like finding an index-sized piece of soggy paper with an ink-smeared Scripture from Deuteronomy—Moses’s blessing to the Tribe of Asher which for me was beauty from ashes:
“Your sandals shall be iron and bronze; As your days, so shall your strength be.” Deuteronomy 33:25
People ask me if this traumatic event rocked my faith. Events like these can have us running to God or away from Him. I invite these questions because it’s an opportunity to share hope. Difficult seasons come and go, but may our answers always remain the same—that our faith cannot be rocked when its foundation is grounded on the solid rock of Jesus.
In the unexpected, unplanned, undesirable events in life, God is not surprised. He is with us in and through it all. He is always faithful. I saw this in the hot meals delivered up and down our streets when we were hungry, clothing handed out when all was lost, and the compassionate, listening ears when we needed to talk it out.
It’s unsettling to see an entire community’s earthly belongings piled high at the curb—especially when one of those piles is yours. It was unsettling yet comforting because we knew we were not alone. God brought neighbors closer as we all walked this journey together.
It was by no accident I was just days short of finishing a Bible study manuscript when the floodwater rushed in. The name of the study? Surrender the Joy Stealers: Rediscover the Jesus Joy in You, and I am not even kidding. Yes, the flood story made it into the final week of the study, and the words God gave me to write were of great comfort and encouragement to me during a difficult season. I pray it is of great comfort and encouragement to others who journey through the six-week study. God uses all our experiences for our good and His glory.
We believers have a precious treasure even murky floodwaters cannot ruin—the hope we have when we place our faith in Jesus Christ.
