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Whenever I hear a hurricane is predicted or see pictures of its destruction, my thoughts return to August 1983, when Hurricane Alicia made landfall near Galveston, Texas, 30 miles across Galveston Bay from where we lived.

Alicia was the first major hurricane to form in the Gulf of Mexico since 1977 and the first named hurricane of the 1983 season. We woke up on August 17 to discover it had just formed off the Texas-Louisiana coast and was drifting NW about 5 mph toward the Texas coast. By 2 AM that night, it had become a Category 3 hurricane when it hit the West end of Galveston Island with 130 mph (210 km/h) peak wind gusts.

We didn’t have much warning since it spun up on our doorstep. Having gone to several Hurricane Preparedness lectures, I convinced Monty to cover our more oversized windows with the plywood we had. Then we taped the windows that didn’t have any covering and hoped for the best.

As Alicia churned off the coast that evening, we waited to see what would happen. At times, we sat quietly in the dark, listening to all the different sounds as the wind, rain, and unknown stuff pummeled our house. Periodically, we would peek out windows where we could still see, but we had to wait for lightning to light the sky since the power was off.

One thing that truly captivated me that night was a palm tree in a neighbor’s yard. It danced and swayed as the storm raged on. The wind would drive the top branches clear to the ground at different times, making the palm bend in half, but then it would spring back upright. Its flexibility was a sight to behold. It never broke, never gave in. Its resilience in the face of such severe adversity was truly awe-inspiring.

The next day, after Alicia had moved out, we ventured outside to assess the situation. Our yard was ankle-to-knee deep in leaves, tree branches, shingles, and siding peeled off houses. Despite the mess, there was a tangible sense of relief and joy that the worst was over.

The two large trees in our front yard stood like two guardians, minus some smaller branches and leaves. The tall cone-shaped cedar tree at the back of our property had a new look. The green layer of the soft needles had been sandblasted off where exposed to the wind. Its needles were creme-colored in the places where the green peeled off. I thought it looked defiant as it stood tall when much around it lay in tatters. I called its new look the grey hair of maturity for our cedar.

We had a towering, stately pine tree in our backyard close to the house, in the L-shape formed by part of our house and the kitchen. Our pine also had a new look. Imagine a giant hand grabbing the tree near the top and then running the hand to the ground—stripping off all the branches below where the hand gripped it. We laughed at the pine’s appearance because it looked like a long-handled paintbrush. The few small branches at the top would be the brush part, and the long branchless trunk would be the paintbrush handle. Thankfully, when the large branches fell, they hit the plywood covering our large kitchen picture window, so no windows broke. Power lines and a gutter were torn loose, but that was minor.

About this time, Monty signaled for me to accompany him to a neighbor’s backyard. They had a huge, beautiful tree behind their house that shaded most of their backyard. Their tree was lying on the ground. Not broken, just lying on the ground with what appeared to be most of the sod of their backyard up in the air hanging onto the roots. The tree’s roots had extended throughout their backyard under the regularly watered grass. But there was no large tap root—just a gigantic mass of shallow roots. The tree had nothing to anchor it to the ground and merely toppled over with all those shallow roots lifting out of the ground with the grass still attached. I wish I had taken a picture, for that image has never left my mind.

Since we were located on the worst side of the hurricane as it came onshore and there wasn’t much to block the winds as they came across Trinity Bay and Galveston Bay, we probably experienced winds around 100 mph. Think about the responses of the various trees. They all experienced quite a trial, but only one fell—the one with an easy life with water always available since our neighbor perpetually watered his lush lawn. That particular tree never experienced much stress and consequently never had to develop strong and deep roots. The image of that tree taught me the importance of resilience and the need to grow strong, deep roots, both in life and in faith. Like the trees, we must face challenges and stress to grow stronger and more resilient.  

Of course, some trees live their entire lives in a challenging area with lots of rocks that hinder them from having good roots. Over the years, I’ve been amazed to see trees struggling to survive despite terrible conditions. In my mind, the rocks in the soil represent the sins or obstructions that hinder me from putting down strong roots in God and His word—the soil in which a Christian grows.

I enjoy observing trees and wondering what I can learn. The brittleness of the pine branches caused the pine tree to suffer damage under stress, and the sandblasting of the cedar changed its appearance. However, when I think about the palm tree, I always chuckle. Although it was humiliated by having its face planted in the dirt repeatedly, it was flexible and always bounced back. Only one tree completely toppled—the one with no deep roots. This reinforced my realization that some difficulties and storms in life are good for us because they force us to grow deep roots. As a Christian, Scripture tells me to expect difficulties and to welcome them because they develop patience and a list of other character qualities. Do I count it all joy when these trials and difficulties or storms come my way?

Like the trees in the hurricane, we all experience difficulties, and how we respond to these challenges determines our future. The trees that struggled but survived are a testament to the importance of resilience and the development of deep roots in times of stress. I want to be like that, don’t you?

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.” James 1:2-3 (ESV)

“…we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope” Romans 5:3-4 (ESV)