From the Desk of The DBeazy One-Man-Think-Tank

It starts small, just an afterthought, a little blurb that is mentioned about something going on in the tropics but is quickly dismissed. Well, at least for those who come into contact with the weather channel or listen to the radio. For me though, it is almost always a complete and total surprise. I accidentally found out Monday morning when toying with the newfangled stereo in my new-to-me 2007 GMC Yukon XL.

“A storm is imminent and preparations need to be made,” was essentially the message that I heard. But that was on Monday and the report clearly stated that landfall wouldn’t be until Wednesday or Thursday. I had plenty of time, right?

Monday came and went, and I couldn’t list 3 things that went down on Monday. Then Tuesday arrived and currently one of my favorite days of the week. Work has been busy and I worked feverishly to get everything done so that I could get to my standing Tuesday evening activities. Then beginning at around 4:00 PM until time to call it a night, I was busy with my scheduled Tuesday evening buffoonery.

I slept fitfully last night, tossing and turning, dreaming about this and that, but mainly, flipping back and forth, seeking comfort from injured ribs and the muscle spasms in my back from overcompensating for my injured ribcage. My t-shirt, wadded and twisted, suddenly became the victim of my discomfort and was sent flying across the room.

Finally drifting off, I awoke with the hurricane on my mind, wondering if there was anything that needed to be done to mediate any future regret for my procrastination regarding the approaching tempest. Admittedly, this storm was less of a bother to me until I saw this morning’s projected path. During the preceding hours of spasmodic attempts at slumber, the storm had taken a more northwestwardly direction, positioning my abode more to the less desired East side of the hurricane. My feet hit the floor and my day began, and for the next hours, I feverishly made last-minute preparations.

I had food, water, and a way to cook for a short period. Beyond that, I convinced myself that if necessary, I could build a fire outside and cook almost anything that I needed. I moved vehicles away from any potential falling limbs and my motorcycle, to the storage facility that I rent in town. I was relieved to have my most prized possession safely stowed. I packed a quick bag in case I ended up having to stay overnight at work. My mental prep list continued, growing in speed and magnitude. The dogs were ready, and the cats, well, cats can take care of themselves, right? Flashlights, batteries, charging cables, a new bottle of bourbon, and “a glass, don’t forget a glass,” I uttered to no one listening. The list rolled in my head, what next? What am I forgetting? I have to be forgetting something.

This process circled inside my head for over an hour, all the while, I dressed for work and could feel my stress level rising. Mental images of the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, the benchmark of hurricane experiences, appeared in my thoughts. “Food,” I screamed inside my head. “I have food for home, but I have little if I end up staying at the hospital.” This line of thought brought up the extra expense of last-minute storm prep, which immediately segued to the gas price and how I needed to fill up the vehicles with fuel, and “another hundred” escaped my lips. Then my grown children came to mind. “Were they prepared,” I thought, then answered, “Well, if not, I’m here if they need me.” The thoughts and ideas accelerated, “chainsaw, gas, oil, bar oil, hard hat with eye and ear protection, gloves, was everything ready for the aftermath of the storm?” My stress level climbed.  As might be surmised by now, the internal “torrent” continued, and no matter what, I couldn’t fully relax.

Finally, I found myself driving toward work and I noticed that my grip was tight on the steering wheel. I loosened my grip and leaned back against the seatback. I took a breath and began my regular morning routine. Each day as I make my turn off of Darbun Church Road, I began giving thanks for God’s grace, for His forgiveness, for His love, and His gift of salvation. Only this morning, I asked for God’s protection for me, my family, and everyone in the path of the storm. I acknowledged God and the control that HE holds over weather and all circumstances of life. I drove and I prayed and I prayed and I drove and with each mile, with each request of the Savior, my stress began to ease and the storm before the storm began to subside. I drove on. I felt myself relax a bit, and I gave thanks; thanks for the blessing of life, thanks for the covenant, and thanks that salvation is available for ANYONE who asks.

Midnight has passed and the storm, thankfully to this point, has not been much more than a slow rain and the “man” in me wants to ask, “Why do I allow myself to get so keyed up over the weather?” I know, however, that I dare not ask the question because I know. I know and have no doubt who calmed the storm and I know beyond doubt who calmed the storm before the storm.

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