Becoming a Hurricane Refugee.
When the hurricane comes for you...
I hope this email finds everyone well. I am writing from a different spot than normal. Typically, I write to you from my desk overlooking the street. It’s a beautiful view of my fine neighborhood. Now I sit a state away, in Georgia, in my friend’s spare room. As I sit here, I wonder what will even be left when I come home.
A few weeks ago, Hurricane Helene swept past my city as it was heading north. The Hurricane didn’t even make land fall, in the Tampa Bay area, where I reside. It didn’t have to. The bay was ravaged by floods. I met a woman at a local restaurant whose house was completely destroyed. She lost 25 years worth of… well everything. I gave her a hug and some words of encouragement. Now, just a few days later. I wonder how close I am to sharing her experience.
Hurricane Milton… is coming. I knew right away that I needed to flee the city. I could feel it in my spirit that this hurricane was different than the few I have experienced so far, and I think everyone else is feeling it too. My spiritualist neighbor downstairs said she could feel it. Some people walking by said they could feel it. A friend of mine, who never worries about hurricanes, made plans to evacuate immediately. Everyone, including myself could feel it in our spirits. Something was different this time.
I had originally planned to evacuate on Tuesday the 9th, the day before the Hurricane was to make landfall. I had everything set up but again, a feeling came. I felt strongly and urgently in my spirit to leave a day earlier. I prayed about it, and I knew I had to pack up my stuff and get out as soon as possible.
Before long, I was packed, I had gotten some money out of the bank, and I was on the road. First step was to get some gas… the gas station was out of gas. This was something I had not planned for. I’ve never had to evacuate a state before. I only had a quarter tank of gas in my car. I paused. Should I stay and tough it out? I again prayed.
I remembered that God had already alerted my spirit to leave so I trusted in what had already been told to me. I told God, that I was going to start heading north and that I was trusting in Him to bring me to a gas station with gas.
There were 2 paths north to Georgia. One that went through Orlando and one that went north and then merged with the highway north of Orlando. Everyone was going to Orlando because it was faster, but once again, I felt in my spirit to take the other path. So, I did. I began my journey, taking the longest path to Georgia with only a quarter tank of gas. A voyage powered by faith.
The road was chaotic. Truly, I felt like I was living in one of those post-apocalyptic movies. Before I even got out of the Tampa Bay area I saw 3 abandoned cars on the side of the road. I don’t know if they broke down or if they ran out of gas. The roads were packed with desperate drivers everywhere I went. Even the side roads were loaded with cars. It was stressful to say the least and knowing I was running lower and lower on gas made it even more stressful.
I had been on the road for probably about 40 minutes. I eyed up every gas station I passed, and they were all out of gas. Finally, I came across a station that wasn’t empty but had rows of cars. I got in line hoping and praying that they had gas. Thank Jesus they did! I filled up my entire tank. Not a drop more could have fit, and I continued north.
I had been on the road for almost two hours before I escaped the more populated areas of Tampa Bay. From there, I traveled north for a while, I couldn’t even tell you the roads. I had never been there before. I passed through every manner of small town, but the roads stayed packed. Everyone was evacuating from everywhere. All of the gas stations continued to be empty.
After a few hours, I finally merged onto the main highway heading north. That’s when the traffic got even worse. I almost got in 3 different accidents because the cars in the fast lane were playing this game where they would slam on their breaks and come to complete stops in the road. I don’t have road rage typically, but I definitely had some very colorful words on this leg of the journey. Florida Governor Ron DeSantis had opened up the shoulders, so they were acting as extra lanes. The 3-lane highway was now effectively 5 lanes, and all 5 lanes were crowded.
This persisted for many hours, until I eventually crossed the Georgia Border. This is when I finally started to feel some calm. The gas stations had gas again and the traffic finally started to disperse. By the time I reached my friend’s house it was 5 in the morning. What would normally have been a 6 hour drive was now a 12 hour drive. I didn’t have a traveling companion. I did a 12 hour trip in the midst of intense traffic with no one but myself and my faith in God.
When I laid down that night, my brain would not shut off. It just kept running and running. The adrenaline was pumping, and I had to talk myself down. I had to assure myself that we were finally ok, and it was fine to rest now. Then finally, after a long day. I slipped into a deep slumber.
I am grateful I left when I did. Had God not put it on my heart to leave a day earlier, I may still be in the bay area, as a Category 5 roars towards the city, or I may have been stranded on the road somewhere. I give God the credit for my safe arrival.
Now I begin the next phase of my journey, watching in apprehension as this vicious monster of a storm roars towards my home. Will my cute neighborhood be the same? Will the apartment be standing? Will the roof still be on the building? There is so much uncertainty. In times like this, I will do the only thing I can do. Pray for my city and the people still there and ask you to do the same.
Please pray for the people of Florida.
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