I owe an apology to the Houston/Galveston area. You see, every year I escape with a group of women to Port Aransas, near Corpus Christi, for a much anticipated, very necessary, retreat from our normal routines. We're scheduled to go next weekend, so when it looked like Hurricane Ike was steering straight for our high-rise condo, we started praying that it would fizzle out...or...perhaps...go somewhere else.
(You gotta understand...we NEED this weekend!)
Never underestimate the power of prayer, especially from a handful of desperate, frazzled, multi-tasking women. Ike has turned a bit and is now heading for Houston/Galveston. Our weekend appears safe. Even my sister Brenda, who lives in the new path just outside of Houston, is relieved that Port A is spared.
But I feel guilty - now I'm worried about everyone in the path, including Brenda, my parents, brother, and many friends. I'll keep praying that Ike just runs out of steam. In the meantime, as Brenda told me she heard on the radio this morning..."Hunker down, Houston!"
