Tempered Joy

Hey, my dear, dear Sisters! I had the biggest blast with the Siestas who made the trek to San Antonio and missed the rest of you so much. I'm back from a real, live vacation and pecking away at my computer in my office. Star's right here at my feet. It's Labor Day so my beloved staff members are with their families just as they should be. Since I really did take the week off (I usually cheat and still throw work into it somehow but refrained this time), I really needed the day to get a jump on the load I knew would be waiting tomorrow.

I'd have lots of silly things to tell you but my frame of mind is seriously tempered by Gustav. Having lived in Houston for 35 years, I, like anybody half-awake on the Gulf Coast, am highly alert to the constant wave of threats written across the sky from August through October. We find ourselves in a terrible quandary, asking God to cause the storms to bypass our areas but sick at heart to imagine them hitting another. None of us want to lose our homes but none of us want to see others lose theirs either. Of all people on the planet we want spared, surely its the population of New Orleans. Oh, Jesus, especially the poor. And, Lord, our dear Franklin Avenue Baptist and other faithful fellowships like it that have only recently reopened their doors. Have mercy! My heart has been in my throat for the areas devastated by Katrina, many of which have yet to be rebuilt. Let's give highest praise to God that He sucked some of the air and water right out of Gustav's angry lungs. This morning in my quiet time I reminded our gracious Father of His powerful words to us in James 5:16b-18. "The prayer of the righteous man is powerful and effective. Elijah was a man just like us. He prayed earnestly that it would not rain, and it did not rain on the land for three and a half years. Again he prayed, and the heavens gave rain, and the earth produced its crops." Elijah, a man with "like passions as we" prayed a change over the weather. THE WEATHER. And God heard him and said yes. That ought to give us some courage to pray like the same thing could happen today.

Keith and I have been in the wonderful middle of nowhere for a solid week on our cactus land at the edge of the Texas hillcountry. No cell phones. No internet. Just him and me and our two new baby girls, Star and Geli. The most exciting things we had going were watching God paint sunrises and sunsets, cooking on the Old Smokey, dodging rattle snakes, and taking rides on our rigged-for-dirt-roads golf cart with the dogs to admire the wildlife. I read the new Jan Karon novel (I think the name is "Home to Holly Springs") from cover to cover and LOVED IT. Yes, I've read all the Mitford books and am so sad when one ends and another is not out yet. She is one of my favorite all time fiction authors. I want to be her BFF.

On the way home Saturday afternoon, however, we saw the eeriest sight. Keith was asleep at the time and yours truly was driving his big ole blue Ford truck. I even went the speed limit. (Believe it or not, I'm a slow driver. The leading cause of road rage in America, you might recall.) We were going east on Interstate 10 and right around the Luling exit I came over a hill and saw 200+ yellow school buses from Dallas, empty except for the drivers, in the left hand lane traveling lickety-split in a caravan our same direction. A police car led the pack and another had its back. We'd seen several Red Cross emergency vehicles already on our way home but this sight beat all. We knew those school buses were heading either to Houston or New Orleans (it was still up in the air - no pun intended - at that time) for emergency evacuations. I told Keith to wake his hind up and look at a sight he might live the rest of his life and never see again. It was so freaky. And to be one of very few vehicles heading their direction while traffic packed the west-bound lanes was sobering. There was no turning back, though, because Curtis, Amanda, Jackson, and our little Avocado were in Houston and I was going to be where they were or bust. Turned out our fair but hot city would be just to the west of Gustav's fiercest breath. Far better than that, it appeared that New Orleans might not be hit as hard as they were three years ago. Oh, Lord, be her levee.

Anyway, I've looked so forward to saying hello but feel like it's just not the day to be silly. And, oh, could I have been silly. After all, I've been perched on a porch for a week watching my man move the earth all over heck's half acre on his green tractor. About the time I decided to venture out on my own and go for a walk, he popped the clutch and hollered, "Lizabeth, did you bring your snake boots?" Where am I? But I'll just have to save that for another time.

I love you. Gulf Coast girls in particular, let us know how you're fairing through the weather. We are on our knees for you.