Guest post by Barbara Ragsdale

First the lightning. A brilliant, jagged streak across the sky. Then thunder like Thor stomping through the heavens. Torrential rain swept down the street. And finally . . . the darkness.

Not yet dawn. An oppressive stillness swept the house. Wrapped in a throw, I crawled into the chair, my mind flooded with old memories of another time, another storm . . . and the darkness.

***

The water gushed down the ditch pulling earth, rock, and even snakes with it. It circled the house. A malevolent force threatening to enter. What if I have to evacuate him? Hospice didn’t prepare me for this.

The lights blinked a final surge and then . . . the darkness, a crushing hush that created a vacuum of lost sound. No electricity, landline phone, or cell service.

Gray light from the windows blended into the shadows. I found a flashlight to check on my husband. Asleep. The oxygenator quiet. Have to switch to the tanks? There were only two. How many hours will that supply? I checked to be sure they both registered full.

I could see the water rising, crawling up the foundation. How will I move him?  I’m alone. There is no one to help. What am I supposed to do? Candles provided a tiny halo of light that brightened a path through the house.

What do I need if I take him to a safe place? The to-go bag didn’t include the wheelchair, walker, oxygen tanks, or the breathing machine. I opened the cabinet with all the meds. Can’t forget the ostomy supplies. Has to be changed every day. Sometimes more often.

How heavy is the wheelchair or should I forget it and only use the walker? I struggled with the questions and even more so with the answers. How long will it rain?

Even if I pack all the things, where will I go? The streets are flooded and only one hotel close by. It won’t have electricity either. I’m thankful he sleeps.

***

My memories fade. The storm subsides just as it did that day. A silent prayer followed every frightened question. Please tell me what to do.

I learned don’t panic. Make a list of everything needed to survive evacuation for at least 4-8 hours. And perhaps the most important decision, leave before it’s too late.

Evacuation did not occur that day, but weeks later there was another storm . . . and the darkness. I was better prepared. My list provided guidance and focus. The rest came from Isaiah. Thanks be to God.

But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint.
Isaiah 40:31

Barbara Ragsdale is published in Chicken Soup for the Soul anthologies and short-story collections published by CC Writers. Her credits also include  “A Walking Miracle” in Guideposts, a poem in Can, Sir, and a WWII veteran interview in Forever Young. She was a staff writer of author interviews for Southern Writers magazine and recently won an award from Richard Wright Literary for best story in an anthology: “Not My Day.” When not writing, she is an exercise instructor with the Silver Sneakers program.

Tracy Crump dispenses hope in her award-winning book, Health, Healing, and Wholeness: Devotions of Hope in the Midst of Illness. A former intensive care nurse, she cared for her parents and her mother-in-law and understands both the burdens and joys of caregiving. Her devotions have been featured in Guideposts books, The Upper Room, and many other publications, and she has contributed 28 stories to Chicken Soup for the Soul® books. She also conducts writing workshops, freelance edits, and produces The Write Life newsletter for writers. But her most important job is Grandma to five completely unspoiled grandchildren.