Are you ready to ramble? My staying on topic is questionable in the best of circumstances. Longtime readers know that expectng me to stay on topic would be like expecting The Donald to trade his comb-over for a buzz cut. It ain’t happening.
While this would be true under the best of circumstances, a nicely organized post is going to be even more of a stretch right now. I’ve landed back home from the Sue Ellen’s Girl Ain’t Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy book tour. Yesterday was spent making grand gestures at conquering the mountain of catch-up work staring at me from the All Things Southern desk but my heart wasn’t in it, not even a little. Right now, my world feels too surreal. Life as I know it could change before these words ever post. And no, I’m not being overly dramatic, not this time. Today, this storyteller is straight up serious.
I’m sitting on my porch talking to y’all, sipping coffee, and watching the egrets feed along the banks of beautiful Lake Providence that nestles up to my back yard—
and trying to process the very real possibility of my home-town being flooded by the rising waters of the Mighty Mississippi. Here’s a newspaper link that may explain what we’re facing.
It’s hard to forget the phone call home to my man from somewhere in the South this week:
Me: Honey, do I need to stop and get another generator?
My Man: (Long Pause) Baby, if the levee breaks, a generator won’t help us.
And so, we wait. My man farms. I write words. And we wait.
Oh, I’ve got boxes. I went out for them earlier, big blue plastic boxes for the papers and the pictures and…and what? If you start, where do you stop? Someone said today that depending on where it breaks, if it were to break, we could have a day, a couple hours, or seven minutes to get out of town. Really? Seven minutes? Should we leave now?
In the face of these mounting questions that far outnumber the answers, the words of an old hymn bring solace to my soul, “I don’t know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future” and I cling to the words of Hebrews 6:19, “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.”
My anchor holds. Thank God my anchor holds, even when my thoughts and emotions drift.
I’m thinking of a boat in choppy water, or more particularly, my Seadoo watercraft moored in Lake Providence in the summertime, held by a rope to an anchored buoy. When the water gets choppy it starts drifting away, only to be jerked back time and again by the anchor. I see me, prayed up and full of faith one moment— before the next news report, before that troubling phone call. My thoughts may begin drifting but my sweet Jesus holds me firm and secure. Sometimes, yes, sometimes, He even “jerks” me back to Him, and for that I am eternally grateful.
My family and I will go through this, or if Father wills it, we may get to go around it, but Praise God, we won’t go it alone. My prayers tonight are for those who don’t have this solace. Should you feel compelled to join me, I would so welcome your company around the throne.