About The Forest-blade. (Swainsboro, Ga.) 1996-current | View Entire Issue (April 22, 2020)
2C The Forest-Blade • ummiEmaniielConntyLive.com • Swainsboro, Georgia • April 22, 2020 Editorials Columns Lessons from a summer storm I'll admit it. I'm the big gest worry wart to ever live. I'm not proud of it. I've tried to control it in recent years, but so far, my efforts have been fruitless. My mom says I've always been this way, so I don't foresee that personality trait changing any time soon. What's a girl to do? I can recall a few scary times from my life: a pretty bad car accident with my dad and my sisters when I was about 10, another car accident with my sister when I was 13 (neither of which were our fault), and moving off to college, just to name a few. I think the scariest instance of my life happened last summer. I'm terrified of bad weather. I can remember following my dad around the house like a lost puppy any time thunder rolled, and if lightning struck, the tears followed. It's an innate fear; I don't remember any thing happening to trig ger this phobia. Even now as an adult, bad weather wakes me from the deepest of slumbers and sends my anxiety reeling. Last summer, my hus band and I, along with two friends, went boating on Clark's Hill. The weather on the lake can change in an instance. We check the weather before every trip and even if the forecast doesn't call for rain, you can almost bet your bottom dollar there will come at least a short shower. Well, the four of us set up camp on Friday night and headed to Aruba, a sandy beach near the dam, the next morning. Chris and I took our boat while the other two took off along side us on their jet ski. We joined a crowded sandbar, swam for a bit, and had lunch out of a cooler. Not long after that, we noticed the skies were turning. Given the fact it always rains on Clark's Hill, we didn't worry. Until we did. Before we knew it, the fast-moving black clouds had enveloped us and the others. Thunder rum bled, and lightning flashed nearby. Some of our fel low beachgoers had started loading into their water crafts and leaving while everyone else just exited the water and presumably stayed to ride out the storm that was coming. I didn't immediate ly enter full-blown panic mode, but it was coming. The four of us knew we had two choices: leave right then or wait it out. At some point during the conversation that ensued as the volume of our vicini ty increased, our wires got crossed. Our friend took off on his jet ski and thought we were following behind. We had his phone in our boat, although for what it's worth, I don't think he would've been able to hear it ringing. Chris, Bailee, and I stood looking at each other as the rain crept closer to us. Matthew, the friend on the jet ski, didn't know the lake that well, and we were concerned about him being able to navigate back to the boat ramp on his own. We ultimately decid ed to go after him and try to beat the storm. That ended up being a terrible deci sion—one we'll never make again. The three of us load into our ski boat and take off. All seemed well until we reached about the quar ter-way mark back to the boat landing. When we left the beach, the rain seemed to be approaching from our right. Once we were on the water, it seemed to be coming from every direc tion. The rain was coming down so hard it stung! Still, the worst had yet to come. At that time, we thought it was just a little rain, that we had fled the storm itself. We kept cruising in the boat, a little uneasy but not entirely concerned. There's a small marina about halfway between Aruba and the boat landing at Wildwood. As we passed that marina by a few hun dred yards, the waves had grown to be every bit as tall as the side of our boat and it looked as if some one had used a roller brush covered in charcoal gray to paint a solid wall ahead of us. The wind was com manding the trees on the Editorial Cartoons shorelines to our left and right at will, and lightning struck so close to us I could see green and purple hues before the eventual crack just seconds later. I was terrified beyond words. When I'm scared, my MO is talking—a lot. I've been with Chris for almost a decade, and I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen him scared. Typically, he is the calming essence I need when things get hectic. His MO when fear strikes is being quiet. Try as he might to not let on that he was worried in the moment, I knew better. Bailee apparently shares his MO when she's scared because she, too, was quiet. I kept asking both of them if they were okay, and all I got was two nods, which did little for my nerves. I asked Chris if we were going to be alright, and he just said, "I'm trying to make sure we're going to be okay." Cue the alarm! Our boat is pretty strong, but the water was so tumultuous in those few moments that even when Chris was giving the motor plenty of juice, she still wasn't going up to par. According to Chris, the waves would overtake us if we tried to turn around and stopping wasn't an option because our boat might sink. I just knew my life was coming down to the wire, and all I could do was literally pray to God. As dramatic as this sounds, I made peace with the things unsettled in my heart. I asked God over Halei Lamb and over to please get us to safety, to please spare us, to make way in the storm for us to literally turn our little vessel around and head back to the marina we had just passed. I had every reason to believe God wasn't hearing my prayers, yet I kept praying because it was the only thing I could do. The conditions were worsening by the sec ond. Lightning continued to pop, the skies behind us had turned dark as well, the rain was blinding, and the wind was roaring. Somehow—thanks to God Himself, I know—Chris found a break in the waves, turned us around, and we inched slowly back to the marina. As we pulled into the docking area, lightning struck a tree about 75 yards from us. I was crying by this point, but I knew safety was coming. Sure enough, we pulled into a bay within min utes. Still, I was a wreck. I remembered from sci ence class that metal is a conductor, and the park ing area for our boat was made of metal! All three of us were nervous but given the choice between where we were at the time and being out on the open water, the former seemed to be the best option. A nice couple docked in a houseboat invited us in to wait out the storm. They offered us towels and eased our minds in regard to how stupid a decision we had made in departing Aruba. Apparently, the storm materialized extremely quickly and without any solid direction in terms of where it started. What we thought would be a short shower ended up a full blown thunderstorm that knocked out the marina's power. We survived most of the storm on the water and didn't have to wait very long before it passed com pletely. Once it did, we thanked the couple and decided to travel onward to the boat ramp to find Matthew. He had made it safely, thank God, and the storm didn't reach his area. Now that is has been almost a year later, I can think back on this partic ular instance and take a life lesson (or two!) from it. Firstly, we'll never try to outrun a storm again. Also, I now feel a little safer riding out storms from the comfort of my house because I have a much scarier experience for com parison. Most importantly, though, I know that even when God doesn't seem to be listening, He always is. I will always remember for the rest of my days that no matter how bad the storm is, He will, without fail, see me to safety somehow. A dire message for the 21st century Ever since God gave Adam and Eve a respon sible choice as being cus todians of the earth and its natural resources, they have abused their powers. When sin came into the world, the pristine streams, rivers, and oceans became contaminated and polluted by man's need to exploit the earth, taking out the natural resources and add ing waste and destruction to the environment. The trees that filter poi sonous chemicals are being cut down in the rainfor est while the once thriving oceans have more plastic bottles than marine life in their depths. Global warm ing is now a fact instead of a theory. Every individual person has played a part in the earth's demise. The next generation may not have clean air, pure water, or ample food. We are at a critical time in our history. Man doesn't have the answers; we are facing life and death situ ations. We must go to God for He is really in charge of our daily life and has the ultimate power! In the 1800s, Indian Chief Seattle wrote a letter in response to the United States wanting to buy trib al land. Read Chief Seattle's Ronnie Johnson following letter and consid er how we have abused the land we inherited from our forefathers. "Every part of the earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every meadow, every humming insect—all are holy in the memory and experience of my people. We know the sap which courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our veins. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The per fumed flowers are our sis ters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle—these are our brothers. The rocky crest, the juices in the meadow, the body heat of the pony and man all belong to the same family. The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you our land, you must remember it is sacred. Each ghostly reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memo ries in the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father. If we sell you our land, remember the air is pre cious to us. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath and also received his last. The earth is our mother. Teach your children what we have taught our children. What befalls the earth befalls all the people of the world. When the last red man has vanished with his wild ness and his memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, will these shores and for est still be here? So, if we sell our land, love it as we have loved it. Preserve the land for all our children and love it as God loves us all." (Chief Seattle) r "p1 T7 i T31 1 _ Gail Williamson, Editor / Publisher 1 Il6 Jr 1 Ol BSt - DlclCLB Halei Lamb, Managing Editor © 2020 All rights reserved. Whitley Clifton, Newsroom Editor Emanuel County Newspaper, Inc. 416 W. Moring St., P.O. Box 938 • Swainsboro, GA, 30401 Telephone: 478-237-9971 • Facsimile: 478-237-9451 Internet: zvzvzv.EmanuelCountyLive.com nezvs@emanuelcountylive.com • advertising@emanuelcountylive.com © 2020 Emanuel County Nezvspapers, Inc. The entire contents of this nezvspaper are copyrighted. Any reproduction or dissemination zvithout the express zvritten consent of the publisher is strictly prohibited. We welcome Letters to the Editor from our readers. However, due to increas ing production costs, we must request that letters be kept to approximately 350 words. All letters must be signed by at least one person. Address and telephone number of the writer should also be giv en. The Blade reserves the right to edit let ters and limit the number of letters on any one subject from any one person.
