The five highest points in Florida are in what is called the Florida Highlands. They are all in the panhandle area, very close to Alabama. While in seminary we lived in the Highlands. Oak trees, soft breezes. Sounds nice, doesn't it? Britton Hill, the highest point in Florida, is the crown jewel. A marker denotes the highest natural point in the state. All very lovely, except......

The marker looks like a headstone. Britton Hill is all of 345 feet above sea level. If, back in the day, Alabama had won the dispute over ownership of the panhandle, the highest point in Florida would have been Sugarloaf Mountain, at 312 feet. (yes, it is called a mountain) The state only averages 100 feet above sea level for the entire state. If you subtract the Highlands, it is much lower. Tampa is less than 50 feet above sea level, Miami is around 10 feet, St, Pete is maybe 60 feet. And these are not measurements at beach level. This is inland.

It is important to remember that Florida is a swamp. I know, many folks love Florida. The cities, the attractions. It is all wonderful. But all this was mostly built on a giant swamp. Why? Folks enjoy the sun and the sea and, mostly, Florida covers that nicely. However, if you go out to the Everglades (which is the swamp) and look east or west toward the coasts, you will see no hills. I have been told that if you can elevate a hundred feet (via helicopter) you can see the Atlantic to the east and the Gulf to the west. There is no real high ground to go to in the peninsula. 

When a major, major storm like Milton blows in, it is not just the coastal cities that get the storm surge. The surge pushes ocean water in so that, during the storm, the streams and creeks and rivers flow away from the ocean or Gulf. This backflow raises the water in the Everglades, which in turn, pushes water into the cities. Lake Okeechobee, which is the head water of the Miami River and a hot fishing lake, is only 16 feet above sea level. Lake O supplies drinking water for half the state. The Everglades' flood will wash into Lake Okeechobee and contaminate the water. One hurricane when we lived there, the Lake actually had saltwater fish for a while. 

Because Florida is so wet already, Milton will barely slow down as it crosses the state. If it follows previous storm tracks, it will cross the state and turn north, driven by the Gulf Stream and the winds and hit land again near where the last one hit. This could very well make Katrina look tame.

When I lived down there, the media blew every storm way out of proportion. Every storm was the storm of the century. Every storm was going to leave trails of destruction. And then a couple of trees would come down and a light pole would fall. But this one has already become a Category Five storm with winds hitting 200mph. That is about as bad as it can get.

How many people will be impacted? How will it disrupt the nation? How much will it affect the price of gas (oil platforms evacuated) and how will it affect the flow of goods? No one knows. Maybe, just a few trees will fall and a couple of streetlamps will go out. Or maybe this is going to be a really big storm.

This blog is out early to urge you to pray for those in the path. After it passes, there will be the need to help in some way physically. Afterall, there is no giant and generous nation out there to help America like the rest of the world gets help. We can't expect our own government to help the people impacted. It will be, as usual, up us to help our own. 

Begin to pray.

Her name was Bonnie. She was 75 and had lived a wonderfully full life. She and her late husband Bob had never had children. Because of this she looked at Marsha and I as surrogate kids. We were just about the age her kids might have been had she ever had any and she loved to have us over. Of course, as her pastor I had to watch that. A wealthy lady with only a niece. It could easily look like we were trying to exploit her. But we enjoyed her, as well. She was just fun to be around. 

And then, while in the hospital for dehydration, she was administered someone else's medicine. It had a disastrous effect. It immediately caused her liver to start shutting down. She went into a spiraling fall from good health to approaching death. She was put on a transplant list, but it seemed unlikely that a new liver would be there in time. She slipped quickly.

As it happened, we had two others in the church who were also going through severe medical issues and who were dying. It was a Thursday and I had gone to the hospital to be with one, then to the other's home and now I was walking through Bonnie's door. She was curled up on her bed in a fetal position. The Hospice worker (real heroes) just looked at me and gave me a slight head shake. I kneeled down on the floor next to her bed and softly called her name. She opened her eyes. "Where have you been! Where have you been!?" "Bonnie, I'm sorry, but I have been with Edna and then with Bob. They need me, too." "NO! Just me! You should be with me!" With that she gripped my hand and held on to it until she died. 

Now, your first thought might be that she was being selfish, but she wasn't like that at all. However, she was dying, and she was in pain, and she wanted me there when the moment came. As you die your focus goes inward. I understood, but I did really feel bad for her because she felt she was being ignored. 

Then there was Lou. I pastored a church in Warren, Ohio and Lou was Board president when I went there. Just a wonderful guy. Their back yard and our back yard were separated by a chain link fence. Most mornings in good weather (that would be any weather that hadn't dumped a foot of snow) Lou and I would be at the fence around 6 AM, drinking coffee and gabbing. He was my father's age, but that is where any resemblance ended. He loved baseball and had coached Little League and girl's softball and had done this for over forty years. His youngest daughter had been a catcher for Ohio State's women's softball. He LOVED baseball and really loved the Indians. I talked him into starting a church softball team and when we eventually won the league championship, he wept. He was closer to me than my own father.

And then we moved to another church, eighty miles away. Lou and I kept in touch, but this new church was filled with new characters. One was Dennis. Dennis was a card. A tall black man, his voice rivaled James Earl Jones. He talked me into singing a special with him. "Why me, Dennis?" "Because, my young friend, a black man and a white man singing the Gospel together says something!" I sang, but I made sure they heard Dennis rather than me. He, too, loved baseball, and we attended several minor league games together. Dennis was going blind, so I always drove. He would hold onto my arm as we went to our seats. Once settled in, we would talk baseball together and with anyone around us. Once the game started, Dennis could tell where the ball was headed by the sound of the crack of the bat. He listened to the announcer at the beginning of the game and memorized the batting order and their positions. Dennis became the big brother I never had.

And then, out of the blue, Lou and Dennis died on the same day. Suddenly for both, which is really hard. I was going to do the funeral for Dennis because I was his pastor, which was on the same day as Lou's, so I couldn't go to Lou's funeral. On the day before both funerals, I visited with Dennis' family and then got in the car and traveled to Lou's visitation. Even though I had been gone for several years, I still had to be Pastor Wade. I did pretty well until Lou's wife gave me the ball we had all signed for Lou when we won that championship. Then I just crumbled. The next day I did OK for Dennis until they lowered the casket. And again, I crumbled.

There is a reason for this dark trip down memory lane. This is Pastor Appreciation Month. I know, I know. Your pastor doesn't preach well enough or your pastor doesn't check on you enough or your pastor doesn't wear the right clothes. Maybe he spends too much time with his family to suit you or maybe he doesn't spend enough time with his family to suit you. Maybe he is to educated and speaks over your head or maybe he isn't educated enough and speaks below your intellect. It could be you feel he doesn't work very hard or maybe you feel he works too hard. Chances are your pastor just doesn't suit you. I have no particular pastor in mind here. I know I am at least writing to people in Pennsylvania and Florida and West Virginia and Ohio and Indiana and Kentucky and New York and several other places. A lot of pastors are involved. You may not feel he (or she, as the case may be) is doing the job, but consider. They have family that they need to be fair to. They have personal concerns. They have hurts that the PASTOR mask may hide. Everyone around them is one of the flock and some of those are ornery old sheep. Finding a real friend in that bunch is really hard. Even their own families don't really understand the way their hearts are made. And yet, that pastor loves the flock in a way that is hard, actually impossible, to define.

Pastor Appreciation Month. If the church is giving a gift, donate to it. If the church is giving a card with the gift, sign it. Send your own card, too. Come down off your little pedestal and reach out to this person. Be kind.

Blessings!