The Storm

From my protected window three stories above the beach I am looking at a raging sea.  The wind has blown in and violently churned the waves into frenzy.  The water is no longer clear but whipped green and frothy.  The seagulls that normally float effortlessly on the rising wind currents are hunkered down on the beach in the lowest dip they can find.  The beach chairs have blown around and the umbrellas that shade them are shuttered down to prevent them from snapping like dry twigs in the forest.  The people who normally populate the beach have scattered into their dry and safe condos all along the beach.  We are in a storm.

Yesterday my family frolicked on this beach.  My granddaughter covered her other grandfather with sand as he lay still fulfilling a promise made days ago.  My wife basked in the sun; something she anticipates with great excitement, and my daughters and daughter-in-law laughed with one another, slathered in sun protection, baking in the hot Florida sun.  My son-in-law snorkeled, looking for fish, and my son read his book.  My nephew had fashioned a homemade spear and was certain to gaff a fish for our supper.  I am reading a book with 800 pages.  Life was calm.

Then a storm blew in.

Storms do that—they just blow in.  The place where we formerly relaxed did not invite us out for a calm afternoon.  The plans of extending our time in family fun were hijacked by the tempestuous waters and howling winds.  The clarity of the water was compromised and now the beautiful, inviting surf spits up algae and seaweed harvested from a distant vale far beneath the ocean surface.  Plans have to be changed, appointments must be moved, and cancellations are in order.  Personal watercraft rentals are voided, parasailing appointments are moot, and the order of the vacation day has been upended by a Gulf Coast summer storm.

Should we stay?  We had great plans and now they are gone.  Maybe we should just leave now.  But here is a truth I know – storms don’t last forever.  The wind will subside, the waves will lie down, and the sea will calm.

Will I?

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Comments (8)

  1. Nice! Being calm is something I place a high value on – even though my life has, at times, been a chaotic maelstrom. Great to know that the storm will eventually be over…actually, it IS over now. In the invisible. It simply has not manifested in the physical as of now.

  2. If I don’t calm myself down during a storm then I am quickly exhausted combatting against it’s too-great strength and, subsequently, forced into submission, into surrender. The storm wins. I lose.

    Losing is not an option for me anymore.

  3. Guess what song that you sing comes to mind! "'Til the Storm Passes Over" – they do come to pass. Love your writings.

  4. Great blog post. I love that the size of the storm makes no difference in the fact that it will pass. It doesn't matter how big the storm is in the moment…it must follow the same rules as the calm summer rain. Soon it will be a memory and another testimony to the supremacy of our Father.

  5. Thanks Pastor Brett for reminding me of the fact that this too shall pass! Yes, the storms of life are raging but I will wait for the winds to subside..

  6. My sister just came got over such a storm. She never asks for help from any of us – I was sad she wouldn't let me help her although I called many times. So thankful she found the strength to stand and battle bravely until it stopped. I'll never know what all she went though but I think I'll show her this and hope it shows her storms never last forever and she's not the only one who's been there. Thanks Pastor Brett