On September 20, 1989, Charleston, South Carolina lay in the direct path of Hurricane Hugo.  As military wives, we knew that we would ride out the storm alone.  It didn't matter if we were Air Force or U.S. Navy, ships had to put out to sea, and airplanes had to be flown out of harm's way.  Duty always came first.  We put on a brave facade for our husbands, because we knew their fear for us was greater than our own.

            I had grown up by the ocean.  I understood the power of the seas, the winds, and the storms.  I was better prepared than most.  My husband left me three, huge rolls of duct tape.  No splinters of glass would be flying around my home.  I had twenty-one gallon bottles of water.  The bathroom tub, and every other container in my house, was filled with fresh water.  I had a three week supply of  "hurricane" foods, boxes and cans.  I don't care to taste another can of "beanie-weenies" for the rest of my life.  I was as prepared as one woman could be, however, no one is ever prepared for a hurricane, especially a category four storm.

            We road out the storm in an interior hallway:  two twin mattresses, bottles of juice, water, and snacks, one woman, two teen-aged daughters, and my dog, Sam.  By the time the winds reached eighty-five miles an hour, we still had power.  The house went dark before they reached one-hundred miles an hour.  We listened to the battery powered radio as broadcast stations were hit and silenced.  One station remained on the air, the disc-jockey refused to leave his post.  He broadcast until the eye of the storm began to pass over Charleston.  Sustained winds were clocked at 145 miles per hour, with gusts of up to two hundred 

            The house rocked.  Windows and doors rattled, alarmingly.  The noise was deafening.  The radio quit.  Then a sudden peace ruled the pitch black.  Not a sound could be heard.  Remarkably, my children were asleep, trusting in a mother whom they perceived was stronger than any storm.  This mother trusted in the Ruler of the storm.  There were no atheists in Charleston that night.

            The eye passed at midnight.  The darkness was so deep, it was palpable.  We were alone in the dark, amidst an eerie calm.  I had never experienced such silence.  I awoke my daughters.

            "Listen," I whispered.

            "I don't hear anything, Momma."

            "Hush," I replied.  "Listen."  I held my fingers to their lips.

            "What is it?"  They hissed.

            "The silence.  Do you hear it?  You'll never hear this again." 

No one moved.  It was like the silence of space.  Gently, I began to feel a peaceful presence becoming steadily stronger.  I reached out with trembling fingertips, and I felt as though I could touch the face of God.  I knew that we were not alone.  I knew that all would be well.  Somehow I knew that we were protected and loved.

The back of the storm hit us with a powerful blast.  The house behind us exploded, as a microburst snapped the pine trees, downing the power lines, and hurling them at the defenseless house.  Trees detonated like, live bombs, and landed all around us, but nothing touched our house.

We were evacuated by some brave soul, who pounded on our door.

"Leave the dog!"  He hollered.

"I'm not leaving my dog!!!"  I screamed into the wind.  We took Sam, using one of my husband's belts to secure him.

"Watch out for downed power lines!"  He shouted.

We somehow made it to the safe house.  The house was filled with left behind spouses, children, and pets.  We were all safe, including our beloved companions.  We rode out the storm prayerfully.  It was all over by 10:00 AM.  Most of the trees were gone, but, thankfully, no one was hurt in all of Navy housing.  Every house sustained some damage, but except for a few shingles, ours was miraculously intact. 

I couldn't help but wonder if that peaceful presence had kept us out of harm's way, that night.  In fact, I'm quite sure He did.

***********Jaye Lewis********************

Jaye Lewis is an award winning writer who celebrates life from a unique perspective.  Jaye is a U.S. Navy veteran and wife of a retired U.S. Navy Chief.  Jaye is in the editing stage of her first book, Entertaining Angels.  Jaye's story, From Victim to Victory, will appear in the January, 2005 book, Chicken Soup for the Recovering Soul.  Jaye says:  "A hurricane is a great equalizer.  It makes no distinction between income or class.  It is amazing just how humble one feels, while waiting in line for five hours for an 85 cent bag of ice."  jlewis@smyth.net