When I was a heck of a lot younger, my friends and I sometimes played a what-if game.

What if a major catastrophe suddenly hit your home and you only had time to grab one thing before you left. What would you take, not counting children and loved ones?

What material possession is the one thing you wouldn’t want to leave behind? What would you pick?

Way back then, it was only a game we sometimes played.

Twice this month, we had to face that question again. But it wasn’t a game. We had to quickly evacuate our home when Hurricane Helene came to Florida looking for victims. Two weeks later, Hurricane Milton showed us a force more deadly than our past hurricanes.

When the evacuation notice was announced I only had time to throw a few things in a suitcase and get out of harm’s way.

Many people were much more prepared than I was. They had important papers in a waterproof bag along with some money for the road.

After going through three hurricanes my first year in Florida then another big hurricane two years ago, one would think I would know the drill.

Why do I always get caught in denial, saying it can’t happen again. But it can, and it did.

When we finally got back from evacuation and checked our homes, my home only had minor damage. This time David’s home was destroyed.

When we got inside his house, I saw some of my financial records were floating in several feet of stormwater, and once again just about every piece of my clothes were destroyed.

David did a better hurricane prep than I did. He packed many of his crucial financial records, as well as some sentimental items. Our wedding photo, our wedding rings and some antiques from his mother and grandmother were packed. But very few clothes.

It seems to me that no matter how old I get, I learn a lot from every traumatic turn in my life.

This time I relearned several important things. When the chips are down we never know whom we can count on. Our wonderful surprise was how David’s grandson Dave and his wife put themselves in possible peril driving to save us. I have no idea how we would have managed without them.

They say that when most needed, God sends his angels. David’s grandson Dave and his wife, Betia, were our angels when we were most in need.

Betia hails from Guatemala and lives in an area in Florida where she is surrounded by her large extended family. I have seldom seen such a close, do-anything-for you family.

I had never met them before because I wasn’t able to fly to Guatemala for the wedding.

Yet, Betia’s uncles, aunts and cousins gave my husband and me instant love.

We are from different cultures but we leaned our family values are the same.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, is more valued than family. Betia’s mother and extended family were ready at a moment’s notice to help. Although I had never met any of them before, they instantly made me part of their family.

During one long conversation I had with Betia’s uncle, I learned another important thing we had in common. Neither of us is drawn to material things. He drives an old jalopy because he gave his new car to relatives.

“I don’t need a new car,” he said. “It’s not important to me. If I can make someone else happy, I’d rather do it.”

When the same hurricane that chased me from my home roared through their area, several cousins came to grandson Dave’s door early in the morning to put on hurricane shutters. Others helped in many ways.

While they are not my family, l want them to be. I wished I could take them home with me.

OK, truth time. My husband and I lost a lot of possessions in the hurricane that destroyed his house. What I will miss most is our comfy sofa and handcrafted chair. I know I can never replace it. Clothes can easily be replaced. But I can no longer afford to splurge on special furniture.

Ironically, we were scheduled to move that furniture to my house but never managed to do it before the hurricane.

But beneath a bit of sadness about all I lost what I feel most strongly is this: “It’s only stuff.” In the long run, stuff is not important.

I also have to be honest by saying, once again, I believe in the motto: Love what you have. Love who you have.

I also believe if we don’t wholeheartedly love what we have, we might find ourselves mourning for what we don’t have if it is gone.

I admitted to you last week how strongly I felt about having to keep two homes going, not one. I have often lamented the care, trouble and expenses of having those two homes.

I’m sure God was laughing every time I complained to him about my dual homes.

Yet, two different times having two different homes gave us a place to live when one was destroyed.

Maybe that will teach me to say thank you for every circumstance. And better yet if I learn to stop complaining.

May I trust more and love more.

Because nothing else is more important.

Email Pattie Mihalik at newsgirl@comcastnet