A funny thing happens in Jacksonville when there’s a hurricane in the forecast: everyone throws parties. When the power goes out, the grills come out. Sure, stores sell out of bread and water, but they also sell out of margarita mix. Neighbors, friends, and families get together for meals and drinks as we prepare for the storm to rage on through. You see, hurricanes as storms we know. While each one is different, we largely know what to expect, so we observe the standard rituals: topping off gas tanks, stocking up on water, checking flashlight batteries, and throwing a party at a friend’s house on high ground. When there’s a hurricane in the forecast, we generally know what to do, so we make the rituals fun.

Similarly, in the Midwest, as winter approaches, residents band together to brace for the snow. Freezers are filled with meat, and in smaller communities, neighbors keep track of who has what. People agree to check on each other, and it’s commonly known who has shovels and snowblowers at the ready. Severe winter weather is the storm they know.

In the American heartland, tornado shelters stay fully stocked. Residents of the American Southwest prepare for the brief rainy season and the long dry season. In other parts of the world, people know how to weather monsoons and tsunamis and typhoons. These are the storms they know.

But not every storm has to do with weather.

Working as a chaplain, I see it all the time: when a family comes together to brace for a loss, an illness, a death, there are always a few family members who know exactly what to do. They have emotional reserves well stocked as they prepare to comfort those in the family most affected. So too, every nurse, doctor, and technician I work with has certain rituals to navigate the pain of our environment. And, in my case, there are certain things I always watch for, certain things I always say, and certain ways I process my own feelings during and after a hard visit with a family. Illness, death, grief— these are the storms we know, and we do our best to help others weather them too.

What are the storms you know— whether literal or figurative?
How do you take care of yourself and your loved ones when the rain or snow or pain arrives?

The concept of “the storms we know” was inspired by an episode of the “On Being” podcast featuring climate activist Colette Pichon Battle of the Gulf Coast Center for Law and Policy.