On some nights, when the storms were especially loud, I would see the familiar flashes of blue and green lights coming from downstairs...not from the lightening, but from the tv...my parents were up, awakened by the storm...a few lamps were on and they were moving about the house,...I was never exactly sure what they were doing, but something in that movement made me feel safe, watched over, protected...so again, after the blues and greens were gone...I would curl down further into the covers and wait for the next one...the next crash, the next flash and pray that I fell asleep before the silence after the storm came...that was always the worst part...because it was over...
As an adult, I still welcome the storms at night...but I assume another response to the beating raindrops on the roof...My husband and I almost instinctively and without verbal exchange begin going through an understood rain dance...I check for any casualties left outside...a bike, some cleats....I peek out to make sure the car windows are up, we squint through all the windows checking the trees searching for loose branches, and Jeff double checks any vulnerable spots in the house for leaks...and then, like I remember as a child, we welcome the familiar green and blue tv lights to check for any weather alerts. After a prayer against a lightening strike...it's back to bed, where I nostalgically curl up, sinking downward into my covers and wait with childlike suspense for the next...big...roar.
This last storm, as I watched the room light up, and pondered it all, it hit me...childlike faith...that was what I experienced in a storm as a child...complete assurance that my mother and father were on guard. I knew they were taking care of me, and I felt there active presence all through the house. They would not let me sleep through a fire caused by a lightening strike. They would not let a tree fall on my room...they might even be kind enough to retrieve my bike from the rusting rain.
Then I pondered...Life has storms. They come unexpectedly...they come at night sometimes, and often, I fail to realize that any storms that come my way have been filtered through his hands....the hands that can command the storms to "be still!" He is faithful to protect me, like I believed my parents to be...even more faithful than my own parents could have been.
In last night's storm, for the first time, I purposefully waited to hear it subside. I listened for the sweet silence that followed the noise, and in that silence, folded down into the covers, and thanked Him and I decided the next time a "life" storm comes my way, I am going to consider that "my father is up"...he is always up...and yes, I might double check the vulnerable places for storm damage, and I might bring a casualty in from the rain, but I will also stop and thank him...for always watching over me.. for staying up...for His presence in my house...in my life...in my storms...for sheltering me from the loud ones like my parents did, but also, for something my parents could never do...for calming them.