I am a control freak.
I’m one of those people that needs complete control of my schedule. Whether I’m doing a group project, hanging out with friends or setting up my dorm, I always need at least a small say in it. So, as you can probably guess, I hate it when I’m presented with situations out of my control.
When I learned that Texas would be hit with a category four hurricane, every part of my “control monster” self freaked out. I grew up in Texas, and thinking about my friends and family losing everything they owned or their lives scared me. Texas isn’t just “hot as the dickens,” as locals would say, but Texas also holds beautiful rolling hills, vibrant wildflowers for miles and a sky so big and blue that you can stare at it for hours and never be bored.
I’ve seen hurricane damage in the past and I know what it does to families and towns. I know hurricanes can destroy beautiful and historic buildings, someone’s childhood home, and the beautiful landscape. Every fiber of my being wanted to drop everything and go help; however, not only am I a full-time student, but I’m almost 800 miles from home, rendering me completely powerless.
The week Hurricane Harvey hit, I was knee-deep in schoolwork and recruitment, meaning my days were packed with homework and my nights were filled with talking to tons of new girls. Even though I enjoyed the process of recruitment, the situation going on at home took up a large portion of my thoughts. The little down time I did have would be spent checking on hurricane updates and on how my friends were.
The most vivid memory I have from Harvey was one night after recruitment. That specific night felt like it would never end and I felt discouraged by homework and my performance throughout the week. I considered dropping a few classes, scaling back my involvement on campus, but every option didn’t seem to have a clear answer. Since I’m emotional, the only logical conclusion to this predicament was for me to burst into tears.
Here I am laying in my bed, crying and scrolling through my social media when I see dozens of stories about neighbor helping neighbor and churches gathering supplies and volunteers to help the victims of Harvey. Those stories might seem mundane or even expected, but they encouraged me.
Being a person who represses their emotions, I often feel like I’m on an island and required to handle my issues by myself, but when I read about Christians banding together to help those in need, it showed me that I don’t have to be alone. Everyone needs help at some point in their life, whether it be from a hurricane, tornado, death in the family or anything else. We aren’t meant to face life alone—in fact, it would be horrible if we did. Those volunteers risking their lives to help showed what it was truly like to live how Jesus lived. Even when I was losing my faith, God used circumstances beyond my control to bring me back to him.
Even though I was powerless to help my friends, I am beyond thankful for the volunteers who took time out of their busy day to assist them. I know that the community those volunteers shared helped take a burden off the victims affected by Harvey. Even when God seemed to be distant in such a traumatic event, he still showed himself faithful.
