Our forecasts here in northeastern Kansas for the next several days are for definitionally lovely autumn days: mostly sunny skies and highs in the sixties, with crisp evenings and chilly mornings. It appears that we will transition from October to November with some fine, fine weather. It would easy to get absorbed in this prediction, this expectation of the kind of days that I love. But elsewhere there are other predictions of a far different nature.
The storm formerly known as Hurricane Sandy has morphed into a colossal system, reportedly the largest North America-bound, post-tropical cyclone in recorded history. Massive amounts of rain and a historical storm surge are predicted over a huge portion of the country, including most of the eastern seaboard.
This includes North Carolina, where my sister and niece’s families live and Virginia, where my second son’s wife and kids are staying during Sam’s deployment to Kuwait. Other family and friends, some closer to the expected center of the storm, will be affected by it. If predictions are fulfilled, there will be a wide range of devastation. An estimated 60 million people or more will likely experience dramatic to severe challenges.
We pray for those we love and for strangers, unknown masses. We pray for divine intervention, for mercy, for sparing and deliverance.
And where those prayers may not be answered as we choose, we ought to be praying already for our own generosity. Those whose billfolds and bank accounts remain unaffected by their own supplications cast doubt on both faith and prayer.