Dark Waves of Discovery

Story by: MiyaK

Chapter 6 – Elizabeth Scott

After a warm shower at our airport hotel, I hopped into bed, bittersweet thoughts flooding my mind. Would this be the last time I’d ever fall asleep here in Hawaii?

God? Please don’t let the tsunami come. Please! I begged silently. How can the destruction of my home possibly be for the good? You promised you’d give us the desires of our hearts, but I don’t think I want my home washed away. Where are you, in all of this anyways? Sometimes I feel like you’re just some divine being that loves me, but moreover wants to work out His ‘will.’ God, I know it’s right to say ‘thy will be done,’ but how? How does Mom surrender to you like that? How does Opal retain her knowledge of what is really important? I can’t let go that easily, God. I want to trust you, but how can a caring God do this to me? Help me Father, please help me understand. A tear fell from my eye and moistened my pillow.

Somehow, a tiny sliver of peace wormed its way into my distraught heart. I will never leave you, nor forsake you, I thought, recalling the text Mom was always quoting. My family had always been quite religious. Both of my parents had grown up in the church, Mom in the Seventh-Day Adventist Church and Dad in the Baptist church, and they had also attended an Adventist college together. Often, we’d attended SDA services at the tiny church near our home, but the path of life had allowed me to become too busy to accompany our parents and my siblings as of late. Now, I wished I had. This disaster was causing me to reach to God, and to question Him. It was hard to do either with a God I hardly knew, and I longed for the faith of my youth, the faith Opal still seemed to have.

I’m sorry God, for letting myself get lost in things that didn’t matter. It’s only now that I’m realizing just how fragile my life really was. This tsunami is washing away more than brick walls and belongings. I already feel my stability slipping away. It always comes back to… ‘Why?’ Why is this happening? Is this your way of punishing me? No… Opal and Mom say you wouldn’t. The Jesus I knew as a child wouldn’t. But why?I need peace, desperately, and I know that doesn’t come from blaming you, God. So if I can’t understand the reason you’re letting this happen, please help me still be able to trust you. 

Oh please, be with me God. Strengthen me, and guide me. I’m still sorting all this out, but please don’t give up on me yet. 

I will never leave you, nor forsake you. He spoke through in my thoughts again.

For the first time that week, I fell asleep with something other than my worries flooding my head.

*

As we drove to the airport, my face pressed against the window, I observed the large amount of traffic there was on H1 highway. We passed the orchestra auditorium and I felt a pang of remorse.

“My instrument,” I whispered and then repeated louder, “My instrument! Mom! My cello! We forgot! I forgot! What am I going to do? Do you think Dr. Saito and Mr. Cho will open the storage room so I can get it? I would have left it at home, but with the classes, I decided to leave it there. Why, oh why? Mom, please, please, can we stop?!”

Mom honked loudly at a driver as he swerved in front of us as she abruptly threw her foot on the brake. Opal sucked in a breath.

“We will be doing good to get to the airport on time,” Mom said, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. “We can’t make any stops. I’m so, so, sorry, Elizabeth,” she sighed. Screech! Squeal! The tires slid on a puddle as we turned the corner.

“Where would you put it, anyway?” asked Opal. “As long as your case stays on its high rack, even if the building floods, your cello will be dry and safe. Out of tune for sure, but dry and safe. Remember, the tsunami isn’t expected to come this far inland, only flooding. But if you took it on the plane, it could be broken or damaged while being handled by the aircraft loaders,” she tried to reassure me.

I only nodded. Meow! Meoooow! Our cat Cinnamon wailed from Opal’s lap. She was coming with us. I rubbed the animal’s head through the bars of the cage. What would I do if I lost her? I thought to myself. Cinnamon, Opal and I shared some early memories as we had gotten her as just a kitten, when Opal and I were 5. We were now all much older, but the three of us shared a special bond. Opal, particularly, loved the cat enough to not leave her in an inland shelter for the tsunami and had launched a campaign to convince Mom that the cat needed to come too. Opal and Cinnamon had won.

Before I knew it, we were pulling into the parking lot of the airport. “Pay $30 A Day For Top Level Parking Garage Spots Where Flood Damage Will Not Reach!” read a sign, catching our attention.

“Let’s do that,” said Mom, pulling up next to a booth where you could pay to park at the top level. After paying and parking, we rode the elevator down. Cinnamon, who was already upset by the elevator ride, lunged backwards in her cage when a dog entered the elevator as soon as the door slid open.

The sudden transfer of weight startled Opal, and she stumbled to catch her balance. While trying to grasp the handle of one of her suitcases that contained many breakable objects from falling to the ground, she let the cage slide from her grasp. In an instant, she had dropped everything to grab it, but it was too late. The impact of the cage had sent the latch flying open and now Cinnamon was loose, tearing across the parking lot.

“No!” My breath caught in my throat. Opal sprinted fast, dodging cars and pedestrians alike and not paying much attention to her own safety, only that of our cat. Opal was gaining on Cinnamon, but she didn’t seem quite fast enough. When Cinnamon dove into the tall and thick hedge that surrounded the parking garage, Opal threw all caution aside and dove in right after her. We both knew it was her last shot of getting the scared cat back to us. Behind the hedge was a busy highway intersection, on the other side of which was a large park with endless hiding options. With us already being late as it was…

Mom and I were now out of our momentary shock, and we immediately grabbed Opal’s luggage as well as our own. We hurried as fast as we could in Opal’s direction. As we approached, we could see Opal, pawing frantically at the leaves in front of her. She lunged forward again, and I detected a shape dart past her arms and out…out into the busy highway. No! No! No! 

“Cinnamon!” Opal cried, becoming frantic. “Please, please, please come back. Here kitty, here kitty!” She called repeatedly. A tear trickled down Mom’s cheek and a cry escaped her lips.

“Oh, Cinnamon!”

I watched as my perfectly composed mother’s shoulders slumped, her eyes drooped, and her makeup ran down her face, washed away by tears. “It’s not this one thing, girls. It’s everything!” she tried to explain while wiping away her tears with the edge of her shirt. “I don’t know what came over me, but I guess it’s because lately it has just been one thing after another these days. We packed and packed, and knew we would lose our home. You dad left us with this flight to leave on, that was too early anyways. We lost the cat. I—I don’t know what to do anymore. I love our home, and I hate to lose it, but at least we will be together again soon, as a family. That’s more than some others can say.”

Together again soon, as a family. The words probed my thoughts. Mom was crying about the same things I’ve been crying about. I feel her heartbreak. But both Mom and Opal seem to find comfort in the same thought that at least our family will not be harmed. I’m grateful for that too, but I can’t seem to let go of all that we left behind. I can’t seem to find that sense of knowing what really matters. 

Opal and Mom were regathering luggage and making note of the spot Cinamon had disappeared from.

My thoughts swirled as I quietly stepped away, trying to embrace my uncertain future, and trying just as hard to embrace that God wasn’t to blame for the uncertainty.

Trust, I reminded myself. He will never leave me. 

I’d nearly reached the edge of the parking garage, and my family was moving towards me. It was then, as I was struggling to stop the tears, looking for a glimmer of hope, that I noticed a pink glow on the fringes of the sky that had minutes ago been shrouded in darkness. The sunrise. And there, emerging above the rooftops and cars and trees, bathing my world in light, was the fiery ball of the sun.

I was reminded that even on days when my home was close to destruction, even on days of heartbreak and loss, when I questioned the world and questioned my God, the sun still rose. A glimmer of hope on the horizon. God seemed to be saying, “Look at me. I’m here, above what you’re facing.”

My usual “why?” was replaced with another thought. Thank you, Jesus. I needed to see that. 

And amidst the confusion and heartbreak and loss, amidst the chaos and fear, Jesus offered the only stability I could grasp at, and I did so, eagerly. I was learning to turn to him instead of the troubles, yet only time would tell if I could face what the days ahead would bring.

To be continued from Maria’s perspective! (I’ll try to submit this one soon!) 

Thanks for reading, and as always, I appreciate your comments and feedback. What do you think of the story so far? What might happen next? And now that you’ve seen how Opal and Elizabeth each coped with the initial threat of a tsunami, which resonates with you more, and which twin did you most enjoy hearing from?