Today, as I repeatedly refresh the map of Milton's predicted path, I've been thinking a lot about Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four.
My standard hurricane prayer is this: Please diminish, disorganize, and disperse this storm, and divert it to where it will do the least harm.
That's what I pray, and in my better moments that's what I mean.
In my not-so-good moments, however, I find my heart cheering whever the predicted path moves away from our home—which means it's moving toward someone else's.
All I can think of is, "Do it to Julia!"
