Loss & Gain: RSF&PTL

John Claypool, a now deceased Episcopal priest who wrote Life is a Gift and other books that have been helpful to so many of us who have been pastors, recalled in one of them, after the death of his young daughter, Laura Lue, the helpful visit and wisdom of a rabbi friend. Among other things, the rabbi asked John whether God had done anything at all for him during Laura Lue's illness, dying, death, and now his excruciating grief. John thought long, realized and responded, "Yes, I know that I'm going to make it." From the same or another friend, John also heard, absorbed, and so realized as he was experiencing, that for every loss, even one so grievous, for every loss, there is a gain. John recalled being furious at hearing this said, but then later experienced the ultimate truth of it.

This is Monday morning in Pensacola and, as I write, Linda is packing, and I think last night Kristen also packed and loaded her car, for us to check out of the motel and make our way back to Bay County and Panama City. Kristen's apartment complex at PCB seems to have suffered little or no damage, and they have notified her and other tenants that water and power are back on and welcome home but mind the boil-water order. Ray & Britany called us yesterday to report that they have secured a condo at Panama City Beach and we are invited. This will allow us to go in to 7H, recover some essential documents and a few cherished belongings that we can carry down seven levels, protect other belongings from further water damage, and begin the insurance claim process; the condo unit above ours had roof leaks, water coming in to flood their unit and seep down into ours. So, while apparently not decimated, we are not off scot free. 

Malinda's house down the bay shore a few blocks from 7H, has such major damage that we wonder if it can be salvaged and made livable.



Being at PCB should be quite helpful to us for taking the next recovery steps.

Malinda will be with us at Ray & Britany's and their daughter, our great-granddaughter, Malinda's granddaughter Lilly. I think that will be helpful to Malinda's progress.

At the moment though, Malinda is suffering, or we all are, and Malinda does not realize it, what apparently are common side-effects and after-effects of surgery to repair a brain aneurysm. Seemingly unaware, she becomes angry, combative, sleeps excessively. Last evening as we were turning out the lights and getting into bed, she angrily pushed past her mother, forced her way out into the hallway and, before I could reach her, went through an exit door, down the stairs, out an emergency no-reentry door, and outside, where she got lost, we were not able to find her until, as we realized we had to call the police, hotel personnel, searching, found her outside at the pool area and coaxed her back inside. To prevent its recurrence during the night, I jammed a chair against the door, put down a pillow, and slept on the floor by the door. She is trying it again right now, this morning. Her doctors have assured us, and we pray, this will be a passing thing; but it is for us a taste of Hell to deal lovingly with this and while also having no livable homes to take her back to. Yesterday when I showed her a picture of what Hurricane Michael had done to her house, she studied it carefully and then corrected me: "that's not my house." I fear that for her the physical and mental, and for all of us the emotional trauma, will be lasting. 



And yet for every loss, a gain. For every negative, a positive. For me, us, in all this: love. My first cousin Carol, who was named for me, has visited, bringing Time, gifts, and love. My beloved brother, Walt - - happiest he has ever been in life because, widowed, he and his highschool sweetheart Judy, also widowed and living here in Pensacola, reconnected, and a couple months ago I officiated their wedding; after more than half a century they are still and again so much in love, it so cheers my heart to see them - - Walt has visited, and we have drunk coffee and talked, Judy sent baked deliciousness, and last evening they came and brought barbecue sandwiches for our supper. I'm not going to say that having Walt living close, in Pensacola instead of Louisiana, supremely happy, and thus recovering my brother, makes all this worthwhile, but it's mighty gardenia close.

Last, and I must stop because Linda needs my help, this about the storm. Never before to my recollection have I seen a photograph taken inside the eye of a hurricane at ground level, the trees, mostly stripped bare of leaves and needles, standing back up and feeling relieved, not knowing that shortly it will resume in full force, rip of the rest of their greenery, bend them the other way, and break them off at about eight feet. Such a photograph is being shown on television. I saw it once yesterday and again this morning but've not been able to grab my cellphone and snap it. The sky above is clear. In the near distance the solid wall of Hurricane Michael, curving round and reaching high, moving, the word is inexorably, to resume playing hell.

And, but, we are alive. Every life lost, especially children who trusted foolish parents and stayed the storm, is tragedy and disaster. Most of us are alive. Hurting but alive. For every loss, a gain.

Right shoe first and praise the Lord.

T+