Read Online Storm Tossed: A troubled woman finds peace with herself and God in the midst of life's storms. by Beth Jones - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Beth Jones
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in Wimberley, TX, had risen 12 to 14 feet in 30 minutes. Twenty-two people had died from the Texas storm. The thought made her very uneasy.
The 12-foot storm surge here in Florida had not only gone over the top of the steel stilts, but was up to the first story of Rachel’s beach house. The rushing, gurgling water downstairs seemed to have a sinister voice, to pull her under its cold darkness at any moment.
She felt the enemy laughing in glee at her and rebuked him in Jesus’ name. Her life was in God’s hands. He couldn’t take her out before God said so!
She remembered her friend Tiffany, who had almost died 12 times from her different heart surgeries since childhood. She was nicknamed “Cat Woman,” because she seemed to have nine lives like a cat. We are the potter and He is the clay , Rachel thought.
Almost every house in Rachel’s neighborhood was instantly demolished by the surge. She was lucky to be alive…no, not lucky, but divinely protected. Rachel’s eyes did not spiritually see the army of angels encamped all around her and the house, but they were very present, fighting on her behalf in response to the saints’ prayers, a pleasing aroma to God. She had many family members and friends praying for her and all of Florida.
She wondered about her neighbors. Surely they were all dead by now. Their house was nowhere near as tall as hers, or as solidly constructed. They didn’t have a Topsider home, although their home had survived hurricanes in the past.
She didn’t know how on earth she’d find out how they fared, or how long it would be before she could even attempt to go over there. How long did it take for storm surge waters to recede? She could be here days, or even weeks. Horror stories about families trapped in flooded homes without food or water dying came to her mind, and she shook them away determinedly, like Scarlett O’Hara telling herself she’d think about that tomorrow, for after all tomorrow is another day.
We’re all crazy , she thought. We should have all evacuated with the others! Why did we stay? Why did I listen to my neighbors? Why didn’t I listen to Jackson? I was wrong!
She could hear doors breaking violently and windows shattering, despite the “hurricane proof” construction, and knew that the furniture by now must be floating around downstairs, ruined, or demolished by the storm’s force. She remembered the scripture in Matthew 6:20 about storing up heavenly treasures that couldn’t be destroyed by moth or rust. Or hurricanes , she thought.
She’d brought many of her favorite little things with her on this trip, in case she decided to divorce Jackson, but they were now probably all ruined. She had been so rash and stupid!
What good would all those things do her now, if she was about to die—Premiere jewelry, books galore, special little souvenirs from places she’d traveled, wall art, stuffed animals, magazines, cute shoes, some photograph albums of their family (one of her most prized possessions, besides her Bible), scrapbooks, scrapbook materials and tools, collections of Faith’s school papers throughout the years (why did she keep it all this stuff?), a music box with a ballerina on top of it that Jackson had given her when they dated, her gymnastic trophies, boxes of letters from her sister (her favorite pen pal in the world; they drew stick figure cartoons to each other), a giant plastic Tupperware dish of Sharpies, colored markers and pencils, pastel-colored sticky notes, their tax returns (Jackson let her handle the finances because she was better at it), bank statements.
Just stuff. So much stuff. Now gone in an instant. And now the only thing that mattered was God and the ones she loved. She realized, deep down, she really didn’t want to divorce Jackson. She just wanted their marriage healed and the pain to stop.
She started crying, berating herself for being so stupid to come here, and now all these things were gone, irreplaceable. Thank
The 12-foot storm surge here in Florida had not only gone over the top of the steel stilts, but was up to the first story of Rachel’s beach house. The rushing, gurgling water downstairs seemed to have a sinister voice, to pull her under its cold darkness at any moment.
She felt the enemy laughing in glee at her and rebuked him in Jesus’ name. Her life was in God’s hands. He couldn’t take her out before God said so!
She remembered her friend Tiffany, who had almost died 12 times from her different heart surgeries since childhood. She was nicknamed “Cat Woman,” because she seemed to have nine lives like a cat. We are the potter and He is the clay , Rachel thought.
Almost every house in Rachel’s neighborhood was instantly demolished by the surge. She was lucky to be alive…no, not lucky, but divinely protected. Rachel’s eyes did not spiritually see the army of angels encamped all around her and the house, but they were very present, fighting on her behalf in response to the saints’ prayers, a pleasing aroma to God. She had many family members and friends praying for her and all of Florida.
She wondered about her neighbors. Surely they were all dead by now. Their house was nowhere near as tall as hers, or as solidly constructed. They didn’t have a Topsider home, although their home had survived hurricanes in the past.
She didn’t know how on earth she’d find out how they fared, or how long it would be before she could even attempt to go over there. How long did it take for storm surge waters to recede? She could be here days, or even weeks. Horror stories about families trapped in flooded homes without food or water dying came to her mind, and she shook them away determinedly, like Scarlett O’Hara telling herself she’d think about that tomorrow, for after all tomorrow is another day.
We’re all crazy , she thought. We should have all evacuated with the others! Why did we stay? Why did I listen to my neighbors? Why didn’t I listen to Jackson? I was wrong!
She could hear doors breaking violently and windows shattering, despite the “hurricane proof” construction, and knew that the furniture by now must be floating around downstairs, ruined, or demolished by the storm’s force. She remembered the scripture in Matthew 6:20 about storing up heavenly treasures that couldn’t be destroyed by moth or rust. Or hurricanes , she thought.
She’d brought many of her favorite little things with her on this trip, in case she decided to divorce Jackson, but they were now probably all ruined. She had been so rash and stupid!
What good would all those things do her now, if she was about to die—Premiere jewelry, books galore, special little souvenirs from places she’d traveled, wall art, stuffed animals, magazines, cute shoes, some photograph albums of their family (one of her most prized possessions, besides her Bible), scrapbooks, scrapbook materials and tools, collections of Faith’s school papers throughout the years (why did she keep it all this stuff?), a music box with a ballerina on top of it that Jackson had given her when they dated, her gymnastic trophies, boxes of letters from her sister (her favorite pen pal in the world; they drew stick figure cartoons to each other), a giant plastic Tupperware dish of Sharpies, colored markers and pencils, pastel-colored sticky notes, their tax returns (Jackson let her handle the finances because she was better at it), bank statements.
Just stuff. So much stuff. Now gone in an instant. And now the only thing that mattered was God and the ones she loved. She realized, deep down, she really didn’t want to divorce Jackson. She just wanted their marriage healed and the pain to stop.
She started crying, berating herself for being so stupid to come here, and now all these things were gone, irreplaceable. Thank
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