the day after the storm
It’s been a week since we experienced our first Kansas thunderstorm. Think Dorothy in a giant, echoing dishwasher.
Last Thursday night, we were nestled all snug in our beds when out of nowhere came the strong wind. Bellowing thunder. Rain whipping against the windows. Four paws pouncing on my back.
The paws belonged to my dog. Her least favorite thing in the world is a thunderstorm. (Her most favorite thing in the world is rotisserie chicken.)
Our bed was damaged in our recent move to Kansas, so my husband and I are sleeping on our mattress and box springs on the floor. Kind of like camping.
This arrangement gives our small dog access to our bed. When the thunderstorm hit, our terrified terrier was glued to my side, trying to burrow under the covers.
It’s not easy to sleep that way, unless you’re like my husband who can sleep through anything.
Not me. I laid awake in bed, holding my dog, listening to the sky rattle and hum and shake and scream.
As I shared in Moon Walk, where we live in Kansas is flat and mostly devoid of trees. Nothing but God and ground and sky. Thunder echoes and booms like tympani in a large, empty room.
Nothing to buffer the wind. No gusts either. No chance to clear the hair from your face or adjust your vision. Kansas wind is sustained, constant, relentless.
Rain flies horizontally across the prairie. It attacks the house. A smattering of bullets against the siding.
“Jeff, do you hear that?” I whispered. “Should we go to the basement?”
The sounds reverberated, bouncing to the earth and back to the sky then down again. Angry and loud.
In my mind, I knew this was just a thunderstorm. It was not tornadic. It could not hurt me inside my house.
Even if it was tornadic and plowed my house to the ground—even if it killed me, it could not destroy me. Easier to write those words now than to remember them in the storm.
Storms are like this. They seem to erupt out of nowhere. They are no respecter of persons. None of us is immune.
Storms may devastate, frighten, hurt, and kill. They can last minutes or decades. Afterward, it may take years to rebuild.
But in Christ there is a place storms cannot touch. A place sealed and safe.
And there is a Person present in the storm. He stands beside us in the suffering and terror, even in death.
God, help me remember this because I know I will forget.
Next time the sky tears open and rages against me, next time I tremble, remind me You are with me. There is nothing to fear.
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the LORD your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” from Isaiah 43:1-3 NIV
Never Let Go by The David Crowder Band.