The Storm
rain on glass

The Storm

Photo by Raychel Sanner on Unsplash

June 12, 2015

It’s coming. The storm.

I can feel it in the heaviness of the air that smothers me like a weighted blanket. I can feel it in the coolness of the breeze that turns to icy fingers sending goosebumps up and down my bare arms. I walked the dogs quickly, hoping they would do their business and we could get back home still dry.

The dogs stopped for a sniff, and I noticed a tiny songbird clinging to the branch of a shrub swaying in the wind. I wondered at its tenacity, grabbing on tight while its perch blew wildly around. Just when I thought it would give up and fly away, it opened its beak wide and sang. One tiny voice against the wind.

It’s coming. My storm.

I can feel the tension. The heaviness in my heart. The expectation of a yet unnamed hurt. I run to my Father and hold on tight. He is my safest shelter. The wind threatens to rip me away from my Fortress, but I hang on.

The storm is here. My grip fails. But instead of being tossed about in the tempest, I find my feet on a solid Rock. I realize it isn’t my hanging on that keeps me safe at all. It is my Father who holds me tight. He smiles at me and says don’t be afraid. I Am is here. I open my mouth wide and sing.

Only one voice against the wind.

But it makes my Father smile. It eases the heaviness in my heart. I have the strength and courage to go on another day. God has it all figured out. So in this moment, I sing.

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