I’m writing as another hurricane, this one seemingly even larger and graver than Helene, approaches the coast of Florida.

Pat Knight was able to reach the Akels last night and can confirm that they are well away from any potential harm. We will keep reaching out to other beloved members and former members to check on them (and of course, please do pass along any contact you might make with them in the meantime).

But it is hard to watch and wait.

You may have seen the widely replayed clip of South Florida weatherman, John Morales, choking up on air as he described how quickly Hurricane Milton has gained strength. “I apologize,” he finally said. “This is just horrific.”

Maybe it’s only such a reaction (from people who know what they’re looking at far better than the rest of us do) that can truly underscore the seriousness of the situation to those intent on riding it out, as usual.

For many, all the Doppler radar images in the world can’t communicate nearly as well as one momentary sob from a seasoned pro who is not especially prone to emotion, and certainly not on air.

If that’s what breaks through the dangerous self-confidence and bravado of a last few stragglers, I’m all for it.

I’m also enough of a Yankee to know that dry eyes and a steady voice, even when under duress, should not be mistaken for a lack of strong feelings.

Most of the people I grew up with conveyed more through a quiet handshake than any well-intentioned bear-hugger could ever hope to show.

The display could be subtle, but much like the momentary emotion of John Morales the weatherman, what came through was the humanity.

And the humanity could bowl you over.

It could make you feel more seen than you knew what to make of–more seen (or differently) than maybe you were generally inclined to see yourself.

There was such love in it — from those who felt love was something to be demonstrated without ceremony rather than merely spoken. All too often, as they saw it, speech could prove to be a performance without much by way of follow through.

They were forever on the side of follow through and watched anything resembling bravado through narrowed eyes.

Our current moment is a more vocal one, by and large. (I’ll never concede that it is actually more expressive.)

But I know that, however we act out of the depth of feeling that we have for one another, we bring healing and repair. Whenever we show one another that we see each other, particularly in distress, we respond to storms of all kinds with calm and quiet light.

There is such hope in that.

As our neighbors and friends in Florida wait with worry for the storm about to make landfall, may they feel the strength of our love and loyalty, knowing we will be there for them, remembering that God is forever with all his children and hope in him is sure.

See you in church