Made it Better

I got a kiss from heaven this morning, and her name is Bobbie Dean.

At breakfast, I sat down across the table from an elderly woman who was sitting by herself - someone I hadn't seen here before. I asked her if I could sit with her, and when she said yes I saw tears in her eyes. She had been quietly crying for a few minutes, I think.

"Whats the matter, hon?" I employed the accent that's adopted me.

"I'm just nervous about the storm," she sniffed. She was fearful of getting abandoned with no electricity, toilets backing up, people getting violent - basically, of experiencing Katrina all over again. I could see in her what I've seen in so many people here: weariness, fear, and boundless courage.

"Were you in New Orleans when the storm hit?" I asked.

"Yes," the tears overflowed.

She described earthly hell to me: waters rising, police blocking the way out because a murder had just taken place on the bridge to dry land, lines of people wrapped around the Superdome, helicopters weaving through smoke columns in the red sky overhead, police snipers hidden on the rooftops in case riots broke out, humans behaving like frenzied animals as they tried to get out...

God, I hurt for her.

We talked about the scariness of waiting for a hurricane to hit, feeling in the air that something vastly larger than you is coming your way.

I explained to her that we'd already counted how many people here needed rides in case things went terribly wrong, and Red Cross HQ had asked for those numbers specifically to be prepared to evacuate us if we needed it. She smiled at me through her tears and said, "Well anyway, I know they'll want to save you. So long as you're with us, we'll be okay."

"No - they want to save you, which is why they sent me to be with you," I declared, not just for her sake but for all the principalities and powers to be reminded of - I have been commissioned by the King as a mighty warrior for the salvation of many and the glorious victory of the Kingdom. I am not here to be saved, but to see these treasured ones saved.

We talked about earthquakes in California, and how all you had to do to avoid them was hover over the ground by a couple of feet. We discussed the possibility of stopping hurricanes with a giant sandbag.

"How are you going to stop it with that?" I laughed. "All you'll end up getting is a giant sandstorm."

"I must be clear out my mind," Bobbie Dean threw back her head and hollered, toothless mouth gasping for air between laughter.

We talked about how God's hand - His real, tangible presence - has been so clear to her during this time.

At one point, she looked out the window and interrupted herself to exclaim in awe, "That's a real horse. There's a real horse."

When her grandson of 19 walked by at a distance, she bemoaned his weight loss since the storm, and how he had to wear his "britches" low under his "booty" now, because they wouldn't stay up anymore. We laughed together with delight at the thought of Hurricane Katrina blowing off his butt.

"Poor baby," she groaned. "He done lost everything he had, to lose his booty, too!"

Laughter never was so necessary.

She called me her angel. I insisted she was mine. Thank you for the kiss, Jesus.