By sister initiate Meimi, Sanhsia, Taipei County, Formosa

When typhoon Nari struck northern Formosa on September 17, 2001, it brought torrential downpours that lasted fifty hours, completely inundating the land. The scene easily brought to mind the Biblical story of Noah's Ark. But where is Noah's Ark in this real world?

The media reported that rising rivers had overflowed their embankments, and many areas in metropolitan Taipei had become flooded. People from the ground floor levels of buildings sought refuge on higher floors, some moving to the second floor, and some even moving to the third floor, while others were forced to abandon their homes completely with the help of rescue teams. Taipei had become like an ants' nest, as people fled or moved their automobiles to higher elevations.

Fortunately, I live in a suburb that is higher than the surrounding area. But after two full days of heavy rain, the hill that we once considered a supporting backdrop behind our apartment complex had turned into an enormous threat to people's lives and property. Panic spread when the borough administrator issued warnings of possible mudslides over the loudspeaker at about one or two a.m. People ventured out into the night to wander about in the heavy rain. We once again experienced the unease and fear that we had felt when we were forced to leave our homes on the night of the September 21,1999 earthquake. This time, the gusty winds, relentless rain, and loosened soil and rocks brought tremors to the hearts of all in the community. No one knew when the ruthless downpours might trigger a mudslide.

Daybreak finally came, and perhaps the god of rain had become a little tired. As the rain was less strong, we wasted no time in inspecting the hill behind us. Four landslides had occurred near our apartment complex. Several makeshift garages had collapsed and basements were flooded, but fortunately, the situation was not very serious. The building adjacent to ours, however, had been under imminent danger during the night. In the early morning light, we saw the horrifying scene of a wild waterfall rushing down the slope from an elevation of five or six stories. We were only a wall apart, but the slope behind our apartment complex remained wooded, while the area behind this adjacent building looked as though it had been skinned and ripped apart. We thanked God that the supporting backdrop of trees on the slope behind us had stood firmly.

After a night of frightening experiences, when weather forecasters reported that the typhoon was moving southward, my brothers and sisters and I in Taipei urged our mother and second brother, who live in our hometown in Changhua, central Formosa, to move their possessions to the second floor of their home. Even our brother, an obstinate man who has lived by the sea since childhood and did not think the current storm was a big deal based on his countless experiences, became cautious after repeated warnings from seven brothers and sisters as well as nieces and nephews in Taipei, plus the tragic scenes he saw of Taipei on TV.

Our hometown lies on a lower elevation than that of the neighboring villages, near the area where the Chuoshui River flows into the sea. If the embankments in the area collapsed and the sea level rose, even the second floor would not be safe enough. We repeatedly urged our mother to prepare enough food, asked our brother to prepare a rubber boat, and warned him to stay away from the local fields and duck sheds. We, being away from our hometown, could only keep up with news of the typhoon via daily TV or radio reports. When the typhoon slowly advanced toward Taichung and Changhua, we thought perhaps our hometown would not be spared. When I saw the neighboring village submerged under water on TV, I could do nothing but pray for Master's help.

As the typhoon continued to move further south, to Yunlin and Chiayi, it meant that the worst had passed in Changhua. I called, and my mother said happily on the phone, "It's okay. It's okay. The water was stopped by the road leading to our village! Everyone in the village is so happy!" We all heaved a deep sigh of relief, and felt that it was incredible, just like a miracle! Suddenly I was enlightened. Although it is an unchanging universal law that water flows from higher to lower elevations, Master has said that anyone devoted to spiritual practice after initiation can benefit his or her ancestors: "We provide for the people and God will provide for us. That is the way of working in the universe." She also tells us, "To help others is to help ourselves." My little brother is a happy Quan Yin practitioner, who has followed Master for over ten years. He practices diligently and serves the public wholeheartedly. I myself am on the translation team. Our participation in this kind of voluntary work is not worthy of mention, but it shows that Master always repays us fully when we need Her help most badly! Thank You, Master! You are the real Noah's Ark.