I am at a loss of words in the face of hurricane Harvey.

I know what it is like to lose everything. On September 19, 2000 (my daughter's birthday) I came home a little early to prepare for the party. It was another hot and windy day in the midst of a summer drought in Oklahoma. And in the small canyon just south of our house, the grass, weeds, and undergrowth was dead and dry--just waiting for a spark to come.

The spark came from someone smoking or fooling around with fire just before I got home. I did not, however, notice the smoke. Instead, I parked the car, went into the house, and was in the middle of changing my clothes when Heather (one of my daughter's friends) screamed in the front door: Fire!

I ran out bare footed wearing a pair of shorts and a Tee Shirt. Apparently, within minutes the fire in the canyon went totally out of control, sending a spark or ember from the canyon over a row of houses, a city street, and into my front yard--with its dead grass. By the time I got outside a large portion of the front yard was on fire and set off the tall evergreen shrub trees growing next to (and under) the house. Each tree went off like an explosion--and set the attic of my house on fire.

By the time the Fire Department arrived and put out the fire, my house was totaled. It didn't burn down, but the combination of fire, heat, smoke, and water ruined everything from my clothes to my computer (all fabric and all electronics). So I stood outside my house in a borrowed pair of shoes (too big for my feet) with only the clothes on my back.

I know what it feels like to lose it all. But this is where my story breaks away from those in the Gulf. That night my house was the only one to burn, even with fire all around us. Friends walked past barricades a mile to reach us, bringing a new birthday cake and presents for my daughter to open at midnight. And the next morning the community of faith surrounded us and helped us begin to put life back in order. But it's not like this for anyone devastated by the flooding because their friends and neighbors are also wiped out, including many or most in their community of faith. The devastation is too much for one group to show up and help resolve the crisis.

I stood in my front yard that evening in September and cried. But I still can't begin to grasp the desperation and grief happening now, this week in the Gulf region. I look, I remember, but no words of prayer come.

I do remember that the one thing we needed the most in the early days (and even later) was cash (to eat, to buy clothing that fits, shoes, school supplies, etc.). So this morning we made contributions to a disaster relief fund being distributed by the Memorial Church of Christ. With our gifts I pray that the Spirit will hear the inexpressible groaning of our hearts, pain beyond words, and bring our heart prayers to the Lord for those facing devastation.

PS: The photo is courtesy of my neighbor who took a few pictures that September day and gave them to me (I am not visible in the photo).