After witnessing the devastation wrought by Hurricane Sandy on October 29, 2012, my heart and prayers go out to all those in the path of Hurricane Milton and the recent storm, Helene. Nothing could have prepared us for what we saw as we walked through the aftermath of Sandy’s destruction in our community. Hurricane Milton is predicted to have a massively devastating impact on Florida’s west coast, predicting to change their coastline forever.
I’m certain the victims of Hurricane Helene feel the same heartbreak as they witness the devastation around them. For many, the long-term emotional pain caused by hurricanes far surpasses the immense physical damage to their belongings.
I will never forget what we saw after Sandy. As we walked along the beach’s exposed rock revetments, oceanfront houses stood with their fronts completely ripped off, revealing untouched interiors—except for the mounds of sand now part of the decor, like something out of a dollhouse.
Other homes had been torn from their foundations and swept away by the surge. Some had vanished entirely, while others were scattered into the bay like discarded toys. Entire beach towns were gone. I had never witnessed anything like it in all my years living on the Jersey Shore.
Mother Nature had even carved a new inlet through the barrier island, connecting the ocean to the bay.
We knew the storm was coming and stocked up on non-perishable foods. No one expected the storm surges and flooding from the back bays, rivers, and creeks. Our fellow neighbors had to be rescued in the middle of the night using front-loading trucks, kayaks, and anything else that could get through the flooded streets. Water filled the first and second floors of homes, sweeping away anything unsecured.
Most of us are so used to life with electricity that we don’t know how to function without it—until it’s suddenly taken away, like during a hurricane. That’s when you quickly learn. During the days after Sandy, we got by using a wood-burning fireplace for heat, a gas stove lit with a match for cooking, and plenty of down comforters to stay warm at night. The cool fall weather made things bearable. For communication, we relied on a battery-powered AM radio and text messages from my sister, who lived out of state, and kept us updated on local news. For some reason, I don’t know how all this works, but only texting and the AM radio signals functioned.
Looking back on Sandy, my heart goes out to those experiencing this now. Thankfully, storms like these are rare, occurring only once every hundred years. It reminds me to be grateful for the hundreds of days we have to enjoy nature’s beauty.
Please take a few moments to send your thoughts and prayers to those affected by the hurricanes. And if you can do more, please do.
I’m always amazed by Mother Nature's dichotomy. As I sat on the beach with my dog Maya, I listened to the soothing sounds of the ocean waves, reflecting on the sea's gifts. I felt compelled to capture the sights and sounds of this uniquely beautiful October day along the Jersey Shore.
Put on your headphones, grab a cup of tea, and listen. Say a prayer and send out a little love. Feel free to save this 5-minute recording for future meditations and prayers. Nature’s soothing calm and fierce storms both hold valuable lessons for us.
The Hurricane’s Legacy
The hurricane leaves behind a legacy,
A tale of survival, of tenacity.
In its wake, a lesson learned,
Of the power of nature, respect earned.
A story of loss, of rebuilding anew,
Of communities strong, and hearts true.
The hurricane’s legacy, written in the land,
A testament to the human spirit, hand in hand.
—Author unknown
❤️ How about you? Have you lived through a natural disaster? What would you like to share? What have you experienced?