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We watched the wind play a violent game of tug with the trees in our backyard, the ground refusing to give in despite the frustrated tears of Mother Nature. We watched the hands of the clock collecting the hours of the wrath from Hurricane Matthew and when it was finally over, when we could safely emerge from our cocoon, we counted our blessings one by one.

She was just a baby when Irene blew through, when we brought her crib mattress and bumper into our bedroom to wait out the storm. This time she peeked out our windows as Matthew arrived and overstayed his welcome and she saw the colors twist and move over the map on the news. The rain danced and stomped on our roof long after we fell asleep, her in our bed between her mother and me.

Since then, we’ve seen pictures of uprooted trees and homes under water. We’ve seen streets washed out only a few miles away. We’ve seen people gathering their belongings and holding hope tight to their chest that enough of what they love would be left to rebuild from. We saw school cancellations and work delays and desperate attempts to find normalcy again.

It might be hard to see now, but it’s there somewhere. Sometimes the brightest lights shine through the darkest cracks and we have to search for them. We’ve been praying (and continue to do so) for anyone along Matthew’s path. Sometimes He makes us lose sight so we can see again, see His promise, see the rainbow after the storm. It might be hard to see now, but it’s there somewhere. I think we're all looking for it.

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