Storm

I remember the storms, which used to roll through my hometown when I was a little girl.  The storm siren in Kroger would go off and our basement would flood.  We kept tan, plastic lawn chairs on the front porch.  


And that's where Dad would sit.


Watching.  


Until the wind started blowing so hard the rain got the porch wet.


And then he'd watch for just a little bit longer.


I don't think I had ever watched a storm like that without him.


Until the other night.  


I was in a room filled with about thirty-some children.  And we started getting phone calls and texts from UK and the National Weather Service.  There was a storm capable of producing tornadoes.  Headed our way.


So we piled kids into cars.  Rushed them home.  As rain pelted down, it was more like hail than anything.  As the wind picked up, the lightening and thunder hit and boomed at the same time.  The sky swirled into an ominous green-gray color.


All kids were taken home.  But a few of the adults decided to wait the storm out at the clinic.  


In other words... we decided to wait out the storm in the parking lot of the clinic.


I opened the big, gray door to the medical clinic when I heard Ryan pull up.  


The rain had stopped.


Everything was eerily still.


I watched in awe and wonder as the very clouds began to spin over my head.


Like cotton candy.  Thin, wispy, white clouds got tangled up in each other and accumulated... growing, dropping closer to the ground.


It never really occurred to me to even go inside.


I watched as the clouds raced across the sky.  Thicker, deeper clouds getting caught in the rotation.


Until ...


There it was.


A funnel cloud.  


We were laughing nervously.  Taking a few pictures.


One of our older kids, who had stayed behind at the clinic with us, walked slowly back to the clinic mumbling something about how the only thing he was worried about was that we were almost out of pizza.


And all I could think about was my dad.  


About how I wanted to be watching this storm with him.  I knew he'd love it.  


I can't remember ever being scared of a storm when I was watching it with him.


I can't remember a time -- sitting on those tan, plastic lawn chairs as the painted wooden porch started to bead with rain water and the mournful siren wailed over the wind and thunder -- when I was afraid.


And it was yesterday I made the connection.  Drew the parallel.  


Between the storm I'm currently living in...


And my Heavenly Father.


Who, I can just imagine, has pulled two lawn chairs up to the edge of His shelter.  Our feet are getting wet and the ground beneath us is shaking from the thunder.


But we are watching this storm together.  Something that terrifies others, an event which sends most people into inner rooms and basements to hide.  He and I sitting here.  Together.


Riding out the storm together.  Seeking the beauty.


He's not enjoying this thunderous, torrential season in my life.  But He's allowing it.  


In the words of my sweet sister, our Father in Heaven is big enough to create the storm.  He is absolutely big enough to stop it.


If He needs to.


But He doesn't need to yet.  


So we're sitting together on the proverbial porch.  Watching the world around us turn strange colors and the clouds spin in sugary circles.  In His shelter.  In His shadow.  


And I am not scared.