Hello Mr. Gustav

Hello Mr. Gustav,

Please be nice to us and our Jamaican friends. We do not mind some rain, but please go easy on the wind and try to keep your stay in Jamaica short and nondestructive.

Thank you,
Amber DelPrete


We received a phone call from our weather guru and friend, Rosie, at 7am on Thursday morning. She gave strict instructions: Pack your things, secure the house and move in with her by noon. Gustav is on his way.

So that is what we did. Food, books, movies, random shiny things to keep us occupied like crayons and markers and fun paper, and oh yeah, clothes, all got shoved in a bag and tossed into our van for our first hurricane experience.

Gustav hit Jamaica by about 9pm Thursday night, although it rained HARD all day. The damage is "minimal". Well the radio says it is minimal. We hear over the radio, “4,000 people have been displaced, a bridge has collapsed, trees are down, about 150 houses have been swept away, flooding, landslides, rooftops are blown away and there are 11 deaths”. That doesn’t seem minimal to me.

I am going to be completely honest, the wind is exhilarating. For a long while I sit on the veranda and take it all in. It feels cool and fresh and it is exciting to see the trees blow sideways in the wind, an unnatural and uneasy sight, but all the while, exciting.

It is only supposed to be a Category 1, which according to Jamaican standards, isn’t a bad storm. According to Amber standards, if it has to be labeled with a category number, it certainly is not good news.

I sit on the veranda. The rain gets louder and the wind, stronger. The cloudy sky turns vibrant shades of purple- beautiful but unnerving. Something about a purple sky makes me uneasy. Especially if it’s a cloudy, vibrant, purple, straight out of Crayola crayon box or a water color painting. I want to snap a picture of it because it doesn’t look real. But I don’t want to walk away from this view to go inside to get my camera. This is a fleeting moment. So I just sit.

I become inspired to send a prayer into the universe, thanking God that my tummy is full, my clothes are dry, and most importantly, that I and those around me are safe because there are plenty of people in Jamaica who do not have this luxury. I am usually not one for spontaneous prayer, but it felt the thing to do at the time.

A family in the missions keeps creeping into my conscience as the rain pours and the wind gusts. They are members of Devon Pen church and live in a single room in the mountains with several children, I haven’t been able to keep track of how many. I am scared for her. I am scared for her children. I try to put them out of my mind…“They are used to this,” I try to comfort myself with. But I know it is false comfort. And I become confused and ashamed and selfish because I am trying to comfort myself, when I am not the one needing comfort...i am comfortable and blessed to be in this house, full, dry and safe. The family needs the comforting. There are plenty of families who are not having such a comfortable experience with this hurricane and they cannot escape it. So many who are scared of their shelter being blown away. But this is reality. Sad reality.

I sat on the internet for a long time today. Rosie has wireless internet and it is a treat to use it. I turn into an addict when I get a chance to go online. It takes you- the internet, and before you know it, you’re eating dinner. With your eyes stinging. And the day behind you.

But I received many lovely emails today from people that I love. I love emails, especially thoughtful, reflective, “I am thinking of you” emails. So thank you, thank you.

I made a Jamaican friend last week as I was practicing guitar. He has a few children. I knew his name, but now I forget it. I do that often. I want to remember, I really try. But the name escapes me regardless of the number of mind exercises I perform to remember. I end up remembering the curly-haired child with him instead or the shadow of the setting sun or his nervously tapping toes.

We had great conversation about Jamaica, about expectations, about people. He told me my spirit moved him. That I emitted a positive energy not present in many people anymore. That I made his heart feel light.

He had been nervous to talk to me. But something made him take the leap and approach me. He expected me to insult him, or shoo him away. Insult or disregard him. Why? He couldn’t say.

I sat and listened to this, my fingers strumming the strings on my guitar without any intent, and felt sad. Why would anyone insult someone they have never met? But he had thought this. Something made him think that. I know I am not intimidating so I asked if I looked snooty. He said no, I saw him as he was. Equal and present without playing the common role two strangers might play- uneasy, untrusting and unconcerned.

My wish. That we could naturally meet a person where they are in life and be okay with it. Role-less interaction. Meet them not as a “secretary”, “grocery store clerk”, “teacher”, “volunteer”, or “stranger”. But instead…meet them as a “person”. Person to person interaction. An attempt to first see the human in everyone, because at the end of the day, we are all the same, even though we may label ourselves or each other differently.

Intend to meet me where I am and be okay with it. I will try to do the same. Then we will have a conversation.