Wednesday, July 13, 2005


With Emily spinning out in the Atlantic we are left with very little time to reflect on Dennis. Here in Central Florida there was very little to be worried about. No hurricane hits Cuba like Dennis did and makes it into Tampa Bay. But with friends, and loved ones sitting in the "cone" of projection it was still an aprehensive time to say the least.

As Dennis passed by our latitude, some 240 miles west of us, my wife and I went to the beach. What an amazing thing that a storm over 200 miles away could cause such roar here. But it was not until I got home from the beach and discovered that my dad was home from work that I realized the possible severity of the storm. You see, my dad works for Hillsborough County Fire Rescue (he's a firefighter). Last Hurricane season my dad earned the nickname "Hurricane" for his many hours spent in the rescue/clean up efforts. And as the "HIT" (hazardous incidents team) coordinator for the county, he plays a significant role in the pre-hurricane planning (so things do not blow up)

With Dennis making a b-line for Pensacola my dad came home to get the sleep he knew he would not get for the next few days. On Sunday dad headed toward the panhandle, waiting for Dennis to pass in Havana (mapquest it). Dad searched through many different homes, and many different piles that used to be homes. Thankfully dad did not have to save anyone. But as I spoke with my dad yesterday he told me how random some of the destruction was. Some homes were left standing while all the other homes were gone. It must be the construction. Even though they were all in the same neighborhood, probably built by the same company, one up withstood while another crumbled. One small mistake, one place for wind to come in, and the roof is gone. But there must be more to it than that...

Dennis showed more than the importance of craftsmanship. Dennis displayed the wonder of God's power, and His freedom to choose. I do not know why 4 people in the State of Florida have died from Dennis, but I do know that for some good and perfect reason God chose to send Dennis right were Dennis went. And the question that I am left with now is: "how can I, hundreds of miles from the aftermath of Dennis, glorify God through this catastrophe?" Maybe this desperate "plywood plea" is the answer.


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