The sky was bright and clear. Absolutely beautiful. A perfect blue with just a few puffy, white clouds here and there.
We sat down for lunch, with a plan to head into town after for a day shopping on Main Street.
"Word from across the river is that a storm is coming," our server warned.
A storm? Really? In this sky?
We ordered, we waited for our food, and we watched...watched the sky in the west and found that "the word" was right. First it was the cloud in the distance, then the waves whipping up the river, then the obvious wall of rain that was moving toward us.
It was coming. And there was nothing we could do about it.
Nothing but change our plans--because there was no way we wanted to go out in that mess! Nothing but hunker down and enjoy the safety of the nice, warm, well-furnished lodge in which we found ourselves. Nothing but trust that, at some point, the storm would pass.
Nothing to do, really, but to surrender...and watch.
Hoffbeast napped that afternoon, and I went down and found my quiet spot in full view of the view...a room with a wall of windows to the west. The storm eventually cleared, and I questioned our decision to stay. Maybe we should have braved it...the storm hadn't lasted long, after all.
And then something caught my eye. Another cloud.
And sure enough, it came. A squall across the river, just like before, but this time, more furious. Snow and wind and gusts and little bits of ice, all mixed together. It was as if the relentless sky wasn't sure what it wanted to give, but whatever it was, it was determined to give it in full force.
And then it stopped. Remnants could be seen on the windows, on the grass, on the trees...but the storm was over.
Until it wasn't. Because in the distance, I could see another. Another cloud, dark and looming. Another squall coming certainly toward me. Nothing I could do.
Slowly I stood, face close enough to glass to feel the outside's icy cold. And I saw. I saw it. Saw the lesson just waiting to be learned, one of the many always at my grasp if I will but watch.
I am not the render of the rains or the keeper of the clouds.
The world outside suddenly, poignantly was reflecting my life these last few months. Dad. The squalls have come relentlessly, one after the other, and I have been made painfully aware of how little I can do to stop them. Ralph. I don't have the luxury of telling the clouds to move this way or that. Uncle Jasper. I don't get to remind the rains that, no, this isn't the right time, thank you very much. Rich.
I don't get to do those things. I can't. No matter how much I wish I could, I can't. I can't keep the storms from coming.
But, lest I begin to feel helpless...I'm not. I can't do what I wish I could, but I can do something.
I can trust in the One who is my help, the One who knows the future, the One who will stop the storm one day.
My Help is found in the Triune God--in Christ who died for me, in the Holy Spirit who brings comfort, in the Father of all love who holds me tenderly as I walk through the storm. In real life, I haven't felt warm and safe inside a lodge, unbattered by the winds. No, I have felt very battered. And yet, He has held firm, He has never let go, He has never forgotten about me.
So my job becomes to watch, to listen, to trust, and to learn...from the One who is good, the One who sees the big picture, the One who is not surprised by the next squall stirring up across the river. Even now, He knows what's coming. This moment, from the exact same view, the sky outside is full of clouds and is gently touching the ground with a steady, cold mist. There is nothing lovely about this day...not to the human eye, at least.
He is working, no doubt. But I can't see it unless I use eyes of faith. During that lunch, as the rains subsided after pounding hard against the window, Hoffbeast and I spent a precious hour talking about how, with our mind's eye, we could see the miraculous work that God was doing through Ralph's life--and now through his death. For those sixty minutes or so, the storm didn't matter, because its effects were tempered by an even greater Effect. During that hour, during the employment of faith eyes, my emotions held steady.
But then the storm returned. Not just the one outside, but the one in my heart. That storm involves fear and uncertainty and anxiety and fear and...fear.
How long will it last? How many more storms? Who all will be affected? What will the next storm look like? Who else will I lose? (Let's be honest...that question lingers.) So many questions...
And then...a turn back to that wall of windows and I remember the view. Faith eyes, Hoffbeauty. Use your faith eyes. Employ what you know about Me. Dig deep and remember what's true.
This post doesn't have a nicely wrapped-up ending because I'm in it right.this.very.minute. Right now, I am afraid and asking Him to forgive me for fearing anything but Him. Right now, I am concerned and am lifting my cares about my family up to Him, and then again...over and over. Right now.
I am thankful that HE IS WITH ME, and even now, as I wrestle, He hasn't left. He loves me and He knows me and He calls me by name.
We sat down for lunch, with a plan to head into town after for a day shopping on Main Street.
"Word from across the river is that a storm is coming," our server warned.
A storm? Really? In this sky?
We ordered, we waited for our food, and we watched...watched the sky in the west and found that "the word" was right. First it was the cloud in the distance, then the waves whipping up the river, then the obvious wall of rain that was moving toward us.
It was coming. And there was nothing we could do about it.
Nothing but change our plans--because there was no way we wanted to go out in that mess! Nothing but hunker down and enjoy the safety of the nice, warm, well-furnished lodge in which we found ourselves. Nothing but trust that, at some point, the storm would pass.
Nothing to do, really, but to surrender...and watch.
And then something caught my eye. Another cloud.
And sure enough, it came. A squall across the river, just like before, but this time, more furious. Snow and wind and gusts and little bits of ice, all mixed together. It was as if the relentless sky wasn't sure what it wanted to give, but whatever it was, it was determined to give it in full force.
Until it wasn't. Because in the distance, I could see another. Another cloud, dark and looming. Another squall coming certainly toward me. Nothing I could do.
I am not the render of the rains or the keeper of the clouds.
The world outside suddenly, poignantly was reflecting my life these last few months. Dad. The squalls have come relentlessly, one after the other, and I have been made painfully aware of how little I can do to stop them. Ralph. I don't have the luxury of telling the clouds to move this way or that. Uncle Jasper. I don't get to remind the rains that, no, this isn't the right time, thank you very much. Rich.
I don't get to do those things. I can't. No matter how much I wish I could, I can't. I can't keep the storms from coming.
But, lest I begin to feel helpless...I'm not. I can't do what I wish I could, but I can do something.
I can trust in the One who is my help, the One who knows the future, the One who will stop the storm one day.
My Help is found in the Triune God--in Christ who died for me, in the Holy Spirit who brings comfort, in the Father of all love who holds me tenderly as I walk through the storm. In real life, I haven't felt warm and safe inside a lodge, unbattered by the winds. No, I have felt very battered. And yet, He has held firm, He has never let go, He has never forgotten about me.
So my job becomes to watch, to listen, to trust, and to learn...from the One who is good, the One who sees the big picture, the One who is not surprised by the next squall stirring up across the river. Even now, He knows what's coming. This moment, from the exact same view, the sky outside is full of clouds and is gently touching the ground with a steady, cold mist. There is nothing lovely about this day...not to the human eye, at least.
He is working, no doubt. But I can't see it unless I use eyes of faith. During that lunch, as the rains subsided after pounding hard against the window, Hoffbeast and I spent a precious hour talking about how, with our mind's eye, we could see the miraculous work that God was doing through Ralph's life--and now through his death. For those sixty minutes or so, the storm didn't matter, because its effects were tempered by an even greater Effect. During that hour, during the employment of faith eyes, my emotions held steady.
And then...a turn back to that wall of windows and I remember the view. Faith eyes, Hoffbeauty. Use your faith eyes. Employ what you know about Me. Dig deep and remember what's true.
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