Advent came early this year in Florida. 

We’re waiting for what can accurately and without exaggeration be described as the storm of the century.

As I type on Wednesday morning, I’m glancing out my home office window, where the predominant color in the Sunshine State is grey. The clouds have moved in. A hurricane is coming. It will be, they’re warning us, bigger than any in modern memory.

My wife and I have no plans to evacuate. We’re not in a flood zone and we live far enough inland that we don’t have to worry about surges or record-breaking, tree-snapping winds. Also, our house is new, made of concrete (not wood) and sits on a slight elevation. Yesterday, we dragged all our patio furniture into our living room. Outside right now, it’s a steady drizzle.  I know that will change.  There will be a lot of rain and maybe a tornado or two. We could lose power. For now, all we can do is wait.

There’s an eerie emptiness. The stores are closed — Publix, Walmart — and friends on Facebook report that all the gas stations have sold out. The airport is shutting down commercial flights. Our church has closed and cancelled Masses today and tomorrow. We have local news on the TV, and it’s an endless loop of words like “catastrophic,” “monster” and “killer.”  Next to my desk, an APC Back UPS battery from Office Depot is sitting in its box, waiting to be unpacked and plugged in.

Prayer seems like a good idea.

Several months back, the good people at Bayard — the folks behind Living Faith and Catholic Digest — asked me to write a little book of reflections for Advent. I thought today was a good time to revisit the manuscript. I found this, which begins with a word a lot of us need right now: comfort.

“Comfort, give comfort to my people.” 

Advent reminds us that the Christ who came into our world 2,000 years ago continues to come into it. He is reborn in each of us, with every whispered prayer, every tender embrace, every chance encounter with an old friend or a moment of indescribable grace.

Emmanuel, God with us, is still with us.

For an aching, yearning, wounded world, that may be the greatest comfort of all.

God of consolation, thank you for your presence, your reassurance, your love. Stay close to all who are in pain. May I always remember that you are with me, dispelling the darkness and helping all of us know hope. Amen.

My prayer this morning is that the God of consolation will remain close to us during this October Advent, as we wait for a future we can’t know and that no radar can possibly predict.

Whatever may come, may we feel the Lord’s sheltering embrace and remember this above all else: we are not alone.

Prayer for Protection during a Hurricane 

O God, Master of this passing world,
hear the humble voices of your children.
The Sea of Galilee obeyed Your order and returned to its former quietude.
You are still the Master of land and sea.
We live in the shadow of a danger over which we have no control;
the Gulf, like a provoked and angry giant,
can awake from its seeming lethargy,
overstep its conventional boundaries, invade our land,
and spread chaos and disaster.
During this hurricane season we turn to You, O loving Father.
Spare us from past tragedies whose memories are still so vivid
and whose wounds seem to refuse to heal with passing of time.
O Virgin, Star of the Sea, Our beloved Mother,
we ask you to plead with your Son on our behalf,
so that spared from the calamities common to this area
and animated with a true spirit of gratitude, we will walk in the footsteps of your Divine Son
to reach the heavenly Jerusalem, where a stormless eternity awaits us. Amen.

[Composed by Most Rev. Maurice Schexnayder (1895-1981),Second Bishop of Lafayette (1956-1973), following Hurricane Audrey in 1957]

Please pray for all who are in the path of this storm.