A relative suggested that I record some of my thoughts about living through Hurricane Helene in an area close to, though not directly within, the most devastated region. So, here goes:
My story has a spiritual beginning, a somber and instructive middle, and a grateful ending. In the predawn hours of Sept. 27, I was awakened by gale-force winds pounding against my house. I wasn’t surprised. The hurricane was on the schedule that meteorologists had reported the evening before.
Instead of being concerned about the high winds, a couple of lines from a hymn that I had not heard for a long time clearly sang in my thoughts: “E’en while we sleep, Watch doth He tenderly keep, Ever new mercies providing.” I took this as an angel’s message from God. It was like He was saying to me, “Don’t worry, Mark. I’ve got you covered.”
I was completely at peace, and rolled over and went to sleep until dawn, at which time power had already been knocked out. The peace that I felt from that hymn stayed with me during the days that followed.
In my case, I was without power for six days and five nights. Although there was tree debris all over because of the high winds, there was no damage to person or property. That being said, the damage to our region from the hurricane’s winds was widespread. Countless thousands of trees—many of them quite large—were twisted, torn, and toppled to the earth. For several days, traffic lights were out at major intersections, forcing a real-time refresher course in the safety rules that drivers are to observe under those conditions. At some of the busier intersections, police and troopers directed traffic.
Because people couldn’t cook a hot breakfast at home, the lines of cars going through the drive-thrus at fast-food restaurants were super-long—at least, at the restaurants that had power. Some did and some didn’t. It all seemed so random.
We took our frozen goods to a friend’s house some 50 minutes away. The fact that not everyone was without power was greatly comforting. I can only imagine how grim things would have seemed had power been totally wiped out.
As horrific as the destruction was around here, and knowing that the storm was much more devastating and, sadly, lethal in other places, I am tempted to say that Hurricane Helene was nothing more than an inconvenience for me personally. But while that may be accurate on the surface, the experience did have a greater impact on me. The storm moved me in more profound ways. It was sobering, eye-opening, and has left me feeling more guarded about the future—not so much my individual future, but our collective future, both nationally and globally.
I had never been without electric power for such an extended period of time before, and the experience vividly underscored something that I had known intellectually, like an abstract theory, but now felt at a deep, visceral level: how utterly dependent our society is on electric power.
Sitting at home during most of the power outage, time seemed to slow down. It seemed like every few minutes I had an impulse to turn on the TV to see how the storm cleanup was proceeding, but—oops—no TV. Or I wanted to go online and see which teams had won sports contests, what was going on in the world, or even something as trivial as checking my current bank balance. Oops—no internet.
My thoughts turned to my dear Amish friends and neighbors from when I lived in Pennsylvania. Our quiet candlelit evenings at home during the outage now mirrored theirs. Without the myriad distractions that electronic devices offer, there is more time for quiet reading or direct human interaction. In a society that has been becoming increasingly atomized, more personal connection seems appealing. Hmmm ... maybe now, with the power back on, I should choose one evening a week to forsake the electronic world. (I’m not betting on it, though. Old habits die hard.)
I also realized that whether or not we are connected electrically to the rest of the world, life goes on. While I was cut off and in the dark, the vice presidential candidates debated. Jimmy Carter turned 100. (Congratulations, Mr. President.) My Detroit Tigers completed an improbable late-season hot streak, advancing to the American League playoffs and eliminating perennial power Houston in the first round.
And death went on, too. While I was disconnected for those six days, Maggie Smith, Dikembe Mutombo, Kris Kristofferson, Pete Rose, and other luminaries passed away. Once-in-a-lifetime hurricanes in any given area don’t affect the world at large.
The strongest emotion I have felt during this challenging episode is a deep gratitude to the people who generate, transmit, and provide us with power. I salute the heroic efforts of the tens of thousands who are working long, hard hours repairing equipment and restoring power. Their job won’t be fully completed for months, but what they have accomplished in just a few days is marvelous. Thank you, thank you!
I have also been touched by neighbors and acquaintances who have reached out to see if I needed anything. The genuine concern for the welfare of seniors in the neighborhood demonstrates the immense goodness that lies in the human heart. There is clearly a great unity of spirit bringing people closer together in the face of a common enemy such as the loss of our energy supply. This is humanity at or near its finest.
Hurricane Helene was a monster, but it has helped us to glimpse a potential future world in which people come together in harmony and friendship. Let us pray for fewer hurricanes and more harmony.
