By Les Ferguson, Jr.

Columnist

The storms this past Saturday were wild. It was around 4 AM when I was rudely awakened by what sounded like a bomb going off above our house. That was followed by the scrambling and clawing, wide-eyed panic of a golden retriever in full let-me-hide-in-your-bed mode.

I somehow managed to fall back asleep for a while. Later, while enjoying my coffee and reading, I was suddenly startled again when every device over a three-county area blared with the sound of a tornado warning. 

Later, I nearly left this life while standing on the front porch and talking on the phone. That may have been the loudest and most unexpected crack of thunder I’ve ever heard.

It was a rough day, to say the least. As I write this, we expect another round of storms later this evening. Thankfully, the atmospheric conditions crossing our state will soon dissipate. By the time this column hits the paper, these storms will have long passed. 

Unfortunately, while gone, they have left behind a different sort of storm for many. Trees have fallen, houses have been destroyed, lives have been lost, and families have been ripped asunder. These storms have unleashed catastrophic pain, heartache, and despair. 

I understand. My family lived in Gulfport when Hurricane Katrina struck. Five years later, in the same town, a double murder would rip my family apart. 

Disasters and tragedies — regardless of their origin — often result in frustration, depression, and despair. Once again, I have encountered this in abundance. You cannot face these types of heartaches by simply taking an aspirin and calling your doctor in the morning. 

In the meantime, my heart aches for all those affected by the storms this past weekend. Please know that your fellow Mississippians grieve with you. We anticipate the time when we can once again rejoice with you.

As I reflect on my past struggles—indeed, the ones that are now ever with me—I’m reminded that God is still on His Throne, and regardless of the calamities of this life, He is still with me. 

We sang a song at church this past Sunday, and the lyrics greatly resonated with me. May they bless you. 

“The storm may roar without me, my heart may low be laid; but God is round about me, and can I be dismayed? (In Heavenly Love Abiding—Anna Letitia Waring, 1850)

Whatever your storms, may God be near.