I started thinking about you as soon as forecasts started to mention that
Harvey would head to Houston.
I worried.  I prayed.  I checked in.

As I watched the storm approach and I watched the impacts,
I worried and wondered some more.
I prayed without ceasing.
I checked in again and again.

I wondered how you were holding up.
How tired your husband was.  How the kids were coping.

I checked for updates continually.  I craved news about whether your house was dry, where you were, whether you had enough food, if a boat had come for you or if you were huddled on your rooftop with your husband and three small children.

Each update you posted was so important to me!

Through your updates, I knew that the kids were scared, but holding up.  That your husband was tired, but holding up.  That you  were struggling, but holding up.  That you had your evacuation bags packed.  That you evacuated to a neighbor’s.  That you eventually evacuated to stay with friends in a safe area.  That the kids were playing with friends.  That your husband was catching up on sleep.  That your friends would take care of you and minister to you.

What’s next, I wondered?

And last night at church, I kept you in thought as my congregation prayed for everyone impacted by the storm.
We listened to scripture, shared prayers and inspiration, and sang hymns.

This hymn, this poem, this prayer, touched my heart.
And my first thought was, “I have to send this to G.”
“This sums up my prayers for her, and for all who are impacted by Harvey.”

Home
Rosemary Cobham

Home is the consciousness of good that holds us in its wide embrace;
The steady light that comforts us in every path our footsteps trace.

Our Father’s house has many rooms, and each with peace and love embued:
No child can every stray beyond the compass of infinitude.

Home is the Father’s sweet “Well done,” God’s daily, hourly gift of grace.
We go to meet our brother’s need, and find our home in every place.

*

Yes, houses are gone.  Belongings are gone.  Treasured things are gone.
But home is not gone.
The place where our thoughts commune with God is home.
And that place is definitely not gone.
It is is present.  It is comforting.
It is healing trauma.  It is impelling volunteers.
It is providing wisdom and courage to find the way forward.

*

You may not think of me as a friend.
I understand.  We’ve never met, after all.
I’ve been reading your blog for years. Since you share honest stories and photos of your professional and personal life, I have come to feel that I know you.

And I find myself automatically referring to you as “a friend of mine,” rather than as “a blogger whose blog I read.” I apologize if that seems presumptuous.  I do understand the difference between internet friends and real-life friends.  And I recognize that if we were ever to meet, we may not actually feel a connection.

Regardless, I send my prayers in the spirit of friendship.
And I will continue to read your blog (or tweets, during this period of crisis).
I will pray when needed, laugh when appropriate, and
nod in agreement when your words align with my thoughts.

Unless, or course, you decide to make your social media accounts private.
Then I will respect your privacy.

But today, I feel compelled to share the story of how I came to think of you as my friend, and to share one of the prayers that I offered in response to your prayer requests.

Sincerely,
Alison