Free Storm Tossed: A troubled woman finds peace with herself and God in the midst of life's storms. by Beth Jones Page B

that she could eventually get someone on the line to ask for help. She blew the whistle that she had bought with the hurricane prep supplies, feeling silly, but it was worth a shot to get rescued.
    She wiped her hands with an alcohol wipe and slowly ate some unsalted cashew nuts and a fresh mango. The mango was sweet, juicy, just perfect. God was amazing how He created everything. She blessed the food and thanked God for it.
    Usually for breakfast, Rachel had an easy-over egg, occasionally with bacon. Her mouth watered at the thought of bacon. You can never go wrong with bacon! Sometimes she enjoyed a blueberry bagel with cream cheese with her morning ritual coffee, but the toaster was downstairs and now submerged. No toasted bagel for you, she thought, grinning wryly, in spite of the circumstances.
    She’d dearly miss her morning coffee and was thankful she had thought ahead of time to pick up some cold Starbucks frappucinos. Not the same as her hot coffee with a little creamer, and certainly sugar overload for her radically changed lifestyle, but hey, it was caffeine. After she ate, she wiped her hands, putting the wipe on top of her purse to stay as clean as possible. She’d reuse things as much as she could, not knowing when exactly she’d be rescued.
    Rachel drank the cold coffee, sighing contentedly. Even in the midst of this chaos, here was some comfort. Somehow, coffee made the world all right again.
    Rachel looked down the stairs. Naturally the power was still off. She didn’t know it, but thousands in Florida were without power now. Crews had been called from other states to help with the widespread power outages that would take 15 days to restore. She saw the big, soft, red chair with the huge pillows by the stairs. How strange it looked, floating around aimlessly like that, as if displaced from its purpose. Then she saw some books. Oh no, one of her favorites, Pride and Prejudice . Ruined.
    She knew it was ridiculous to get so upset over a book, when people had certainly died, but she’d always cherished books. She viewed them as friends. She knew that it was silly and maybe even wrong to feel this way, when maybe even her neighbors—Rachel couldn’t finish the thought. It scared her too much.
    Too close to home. Her neighbors were precious to her. She’d grown to really love them as close friends during her stay. She couldn’t stand to think of them as gone. It upset her too much.
    And if they were dead, who would help her? How was she going to get rescued without a cell phone, the CB, neighbors nearby?
    Would a fireman or police man or some random person find her weeks later, dead in this beach house from starvation, dehydration, or some other cause?
    Would some psycho weirdo break into the house now, raping or violently killing her? She would be at his mercy. The storm had frightened her so much, the enemy was tormenting her with new fears. Then she remembered, God’s mercies are new each morning . But what if…?
    One night she and Jackson had talked late into the night about all the looters and criminals who went crazy after Hurricane Katrina. They acted like animals. Fear and panic could bring out the worst behavior in people.
    Why had she come here, knowing it was hurricane season? She had convinced herself that she was right, Jackson was wrong, and she needed to do this to figure out what to do with her life. Had it worked? Was this storm a Divine appointment for her, showing her how much her marriage—and her family—really mattered? To show her the contents of her heart—her stubbornness, her pride, her rudeness, her being all about self--her constantly putting up walls with Jackson to protect herself from hurt, keep him and others at arms’ length all the time?
    She blew the whistle and tried the CB again, over and over, to no avail. How was she supposed to find out how her neighbors were? What was she supposed to do all day and night, while waiting to be rescued? She knew the CB batteries