Eleven. (Months).

IMG_9631

Not long after this time last year, I welcomed the rain, the thunder, the wind, the lightning. It echoed the storm, the chaos in my own soul. It reminded me that God was big and powerful and outside my control — and yet His storms could be breathtakingly beautiful.

This year, however, I fear the storm. I fear the return of the rains because they signal the passage of time. (I’ve noticed that sudden death tends to make one obsessed with time.)

This world is moving on, and June will come again with her storms, same as last year, same as all the years before. Last June was no different than this June; for the rain it was just like any other summer.

The world is moving on, am I moving with it? I cannot decide whether that is good or bad. But I know the storms scare me. They shake me.

They wrest me, and steal my joy… when I used to run and dance in their rain, I used to marvel at their power, I used to want to be consumed by the storms, taken into the clouds, carried away on the winds.

But today I dread the encroaching darkness. I dread the thought of a year without him.

And yet the storm calls to me; the winds beckon me on…

Advertisements

Certain of what we do not see

In my last post, I commented on the beauty of the sun and encouraged you to enjoy the sun that day. I wrote the post in the middle of the night and the next morning (at least in my neck of the woods), it was cloudy and rainy. There wasn’t very much sun that day, or today either for that matter. And yet I encouraged you to enjoy the sun. …Did you still do it?

The sun is still there, you know, even if we can’t see it.

Right now, I’m writing a paper about Robert Frost’s “Storm Fear,” a poem about the storms of our lives that wall us in and beat upon our windows and cause us to despair. But, you know, the sun is still present, even though hidden behind storm clouds.

It’s still there, providing its energy that gives life. It’s fixed in space, it hasn’t gone anywhere, nor has the earth moved farther away from it. It’s just that sometimes we can’t see the sun as well as we’d like to. But it’s still there.

A lot like God, huh?

May you enjoy the glory of the sun today, even if it’s not obvious. May you bask in the steady pretense of the Son, even through the storm.

Today is the brightest, the brightest that I’ve ever known…