As I’m sitting down to pray about the recent typhoon that devastated parts of the Philippines, I’m reminded of an experience I had while living in Boston years ago. My husband and I had purchased our first home—a two-level condo in the Back Bay area of the city. The lower level was called a “garden level” because it was not quite basement level but definitely below street level. One summer night there was a terrific rainstorm that hit the city, and the downpour was torrential. At around three o’clock in the morning we were awakened to the sound of things crashing around in the living room below our bedroom. It soon became apparent that there was over four feet of water in our lower living area, and just about everything we owned was floating or under water.
The following day we learned that the entire Back Bay area of the city had been flooded because of an electrical failure that caused city water pumps to stop. Consequently, all the rain plus the water from an unusually high tide had nowhere to go but up into peoples’ homes. The next day revealed a scene of thousands of people trying to recover and salvage their belongings.
However, within hours the scene looked different to me—even though outwardly nothing had really changed. Instead of sadness, I saw neighbors helping neighbors with hugs, food, assistance, and words of encouragement. Instead of destruction, I began to see the spirit of brother- and sisterhood, and a common purpose to rise up and persevere. I saw people praying. I even saw some smiling. And most touchingly, I saw people meeting each other for the first time and having thoughtful conversations. It was a whole new view—and it was one that offered promise instead of despair. I felt and saw the Spirit of God in action over those next few months. Restoration and renewal took place, and I believe lives were uplifted. I know ours were.
