The One Candle in the Storm

When Hurricane Maria struck Puerto Rico in September 2017, Carmen Velázquez huddled with her three children in the concrete bathroom of their Humacao home. The winds tore away the roof. The power vanished. For fourteen hours, they sat in total darkness while the world outside screamed.

Carmen had one candle. Just one. She cupped her hand around the flame like it was the most precious thing she had ever held. Her youngest, Sofia, stopped crying the moment that small fire appeared. The children pressed close, eyes fixed on the glow. "While that candle burned," Carmen later told a reporter, "we believed we would survive."

That single flame didn't stop the hurricane. It didn't rebuild the roof or restore the power grid. But it changed everything inside that bathroom. Fear loosened its grip. The darkness had a boundary. The children could see their mother's face.

David understood this. When enemies surrounded him, when betrayal closed in like a Category 5 storm, he didn't ask the Almighty for an army or a fortress. He asked for one thing — to dwell in the presence of the Lord, to gaze upon His beauty. That was enough.

"The LORD is my light and my salvation," he wrote. "Whom shall I fear?" When you hold the one thing that matters — the nearness of God — the storm doesn't disappear, but the darkness loses its power over you.