Throughout the night the house shook, deck furniture moved, waves battered and bruised the beach beyond my Perch.
It’s mid-November not January or February when storms come often enough to make one rethink an aversion to moving to a place without seasons, especially the Winter one.
A national weatherman apologized this morning for “not getting it right” for the thousands stranded along highways or in airports.
Most of the time, they, the weather folks, come close. Not easy predicting onset, intensity or duration of storms.
Reminds me of the story in the Bible told in Matthew 8. Jesus and his disciples were out in a boat on the sea of Galilee, when a doozy of a storm hit with waves shaking the boat and the disciples’ faith. If anyone could’ve accurately predicted an approaching storm it was the One sound asleep in the boat. The drenched disciples woke Jesus, yelling something like, “Help! We’re drowning here.” And Jesus helped. He told the sea and winds to settle down. They did, leaving the disciples shaking their heads and wondering who was this person they’d signed up to follow, this nature-whisperer?
It’s not much of a leap to see this life as that boat, that storm as our challenges/issues/crises and their fearful, faithless panic as ours.
Before falling sleeping, checked if phone was fully charged and a flashlight within reach on the bedside table. Small reassurances.
Jesus in the boat, even asleep, all in Good hands.
Hope to remember Sunday when we “pass the peace” to each other, it’s more than words and when we kneel at the altar, drenched from life’s storms, we’re ingesting more than some Sunday snack.
We’re recipients of God’s Life preservers available to all us little and seemingly no-faith folks who risk crying, “Help!”
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