We thought the media was overblowing it, because “the media overblows everything.” We
thought he would create a few mud puddles, rip off a few dead limbs, and blow on by. But
Hurricane Ian was more of a demon than that.
Even in relatively-less-affected Orlando, he hurled knifelike sheets of rain at all who crossed his path, screaming at us for two days straight. He was the demon of screamin'.
I screamed too, for my chickens, and fearing their little house would be swept away like Dorothy's in the Wizard of Oz, I let them bed down for the night in the garage. I've never seen so much poop in my life. But whatever.
Mike had just built a "studio" (read: mancave) on the lakefront. He was originally going to build it right on the shore, but I said, "Don't you remember when the lake swelled? You need to put it on stilts." So he did. Good thing. The water is all the way up to, but not yet in, the building. We're currently taking pictures from inside and telling people it's our houseboat, because it pretty much is.
The storm started Wednesday. I barely slept Wednesday night. Thursday things calmed slightly. But then the damage assessment process began. I knew some shingles had been blown off. Then Thursday night at 9:15PM I discovered the latex ceiling paint swollen with wet insulation.
I didn't sleep Thursday night, either. It felt like Ian left my home full of latex aliens.
There are currently two holes in my ceiling. I'll just think of them as skylights :) But I have a harder time reframing my shed, which is a fractured shadow of its original self.
Hopefully my insurance company will cover the damage. But the reality is that after a payout, companies can cancel your policy. So there's that. They are businesses.
Honestly, though, these are first world problems. Many on the coast have lost everything. And beyond that, many human beings the world over live lives of continued stress and suffering. What are my ceiling holes and shed shambles in comparison?
Still, God cares about all our losses. His ears are big enough to hear every cry in the thunderous chorus of human woe.
What storms would you like to be over?
How can I pray for you?