The Crisis and the Pity Pool!

Ten days ago, Florida experienced a hurricane.  A massive hurricane.  A hurricane that covered our entire state, and then some.  It went over Carribbean islands as a Cat 5 and was a "mere" Cat 4 when it came ashore around Naples.  Irma was a Cat 1 by the time she got to us, which was a very good thing.

But, it is important to remember a few things--Houston was devastated by Hurricane Harvey beginning on 8/25/17.  Hurricane Irma,  although it didn't make landfall in the states until 9/10/17, was being closely watched by all media (all the time) from Labor Day (9/4) on. And we thought we were going to be hit by a stronger hurricane until a few hours before it made landfall. Hurricane Maria formed the following weekend, following an eerily similar (and for the the Carribbean islands, as devastating a) path as Irma .

All this is to say that being at DEFCON 1 (maybe 2, if you don't get easily ruffled) is a very wearing place to live. Yes, we only had minor damage to the house, but it took us a week to prepare and a week to clean up; we have a roof repair yet, and there is currently a large, partially separated branch dangling directly over our power line.  The only benefit over Hurricane Hugo, which we also went through, is that I didn't have to wait 2 days to find out if Cindy was OK at her apartment because we never lost our cell phones.

Which brings me to those cute little puppies in the pool.  Folks--we all have a pity pool.  Some are bigger than others.  Some are used more frequently; BUT we all have them.  They are not a bad thing.  They are a coping skill.  You'll notice that I did not call it a pity bathtub.  It is not for soaking in until your skin is pruney.   But, if life hands you lemons, then you deserve, and have earned, a dip in the pity pool.  You'll feel better if you acknowledge that life is not fun.  You'll feel even better if your friends honor your "pool time".

As God would have it, my Bible study is currently in Job.  Imagine if, instead of pontificating from their posteriors, Job's friends had acknowledged that his life currently stunk.  It wouldn't have changed his circumstances, except that he wouldn't have felt so alone.  And that, my friends, would have made all the difference.

They wouldn't have had to join him in the pity pool, just given him the right to be there.  And prayed for him.  And stood by him.  And, maybe even reminded him that the pity pool is not a spa.  When you go through trauma, you need your faith, your family and your friends.  Job had none of that.  We can do better for our friends.

If you need me, I'll be swirling my toesies in my inflatable pity pool!  Care to join me?
Feeling blessed, how about you?