Life brings storms.
It’s true. Right now, out my window I hear one approaching. I had the news on earlier, and the weatherman had one of those fancy radar screens up with the reds, greens, and oranges. I knew the storm was approaching before it got here, because I was warned. I was given the opportunity to prepare.
I’m fascinated tonight with the fact that most of us find solace, even peace of a storm coming in. We sit on our back porches, on the beach. We draw the curtains back, pull up the blinds. We take pictures of the lightning; we sleep soundly to the sounds of rumbles of thunder. We find peace in storms. Why? Because even in the uncertainty of thunder and lightning – we feel safe, protected. When the storm is raging and we have nothing to fear, we enjoy its presence. We draw it in, we stand in awe. Children, however, don’t. They cower in fear under their blankets, they run to Mommy; they keep us up all night until the storms have passed. They have no experience with the sounds of thunder; they see lighting only as the enemy – something different and frightening. They’ve never weathered a storm, or have experienced enough of the power of nature to feel safe in its presence. They need affirmation the walls will hold.
The real storms of life – the one’s that no weatherman warned us about, the one that occurred when we least expect it, the one’s we didn’t see come over the ocean or out our window – those are the ones we as adults, in our earthly wisdom, still struggle with. The one’s that do the opposite of their counterpart, and turn us into children… They keep us awake. They have us close our blinds, draw our curtains down and hide. There’s an uncertainty and uneasiness to them. I know friends going through such storms now. Job loss, children who are fighting serious illness, struggles in faith, identity crisis, financial devastation, loss of a loved one. These are the storms of life we don’t stand in awe in, but ran away from.
What comfort do we lend our friends? What do we tell ourselves? This too, shall pass? Who will comfort us as a child when the thunder rumbles a little too loud and the lighting strikes a little too close? To whom do we run?
Come to think of it… It’s just interesting, that we find solace in the real life event we use as a metaphor for chaos and uncertainty. I often wonder if this metaphor was divine inspiration for some greater reminder. Perhaps, as a reminder that we still need someone and something greater than ourselves whose arms are available to climb into and offer comfort. Perhaps, we need our own affirmation from a higher power. One day, I’m sure we’ll all find our comfort from the storms.
Sleep well friends.