Weathering the Storm

There’s nothing like a hurricane warning to send you into frantic mode, bringing your normal everyday routine to a screeching halt. 

You join your fellow neighbors and race around gathering supplies. You ponder what you might want to eat over the next five days that doesn't require cooking or refrigeration.

You wait in line at the gas station to fuel up your car, unearth your flashlights from under the kitchen sink, and buy 67 {or so} packages of batteries in assorted sizes. 

You move every single plant and piece of outdoor furniture into your garage, then carefully park your car in between the dangling legs of the stacked patio chairs, dodge the potted palms {that didn’t look so big until they were in your garage}, and make your way into your house.

You’re ready to hunker down so you turn on the TV to stare at the enormous swirling satellite image of the storm for the next who-knows-how-many-hours and watch reporters yell over the wind and waves at the beach.

You get yourself a drink {but not one of the precious water bottles you’ve managed to procure} and you wait. 

You’ve now got plenty of time on your hands.

I get started on my own personal hurricane preparation that also includes doing laundry and washing my hair. Because I remember the last hurricane {actually three in a row one summer} that swept through Central Florida.

The winds whipped around my just-purchased brand new house after midnight and sent my neighbor’s tree crashing into my yard, taking the power lines down with it. I was without power for a week and without TV or internet for three weeks.

Although I live in a different neighborhood now with buried power lines {with lower odds for a power outage}, I wanted plenty of coffee-comfort on hand, just in case.

I managed to grab the last thermos at SuperTarget since it guaranteed to keep 8 cups of coffee piping hot for 24 hours. 

So at 4:30 am when the winds started howling around my house, I raced downstairs to brew the coffee and poured it into my new supersized thermos. 

I figured since I was awake, I might as well have a cup, grab a scone and keep an eye on the TV reports.

That’s when I heard the news that the storm had wobbled to the east just a smidge and that slight jog would prevent hurricane force winds from coming inland to reach Orlando. 

Rather miraculous, I think.

I realized a storm sure can brew up a host of challenges but it can also wash in a tide of opportunity. 

It calls on us to trust and get a tighter grip on our faith so it won't slip when the waves surge.

It offers us the opportunity to have peace that's beyond our understanding despite the chaos raging around us.

It summons courage from a reservoir we didn't know was filled and ready for us to access, and it calls forth grace that we didn't know we wanted to offer.

And it invites us to begin again.

Because after the storm subsides, we find the wind gusts have blown through our hair and the floodwaters have soaked our shoes, but we're still standing.

Then God cracks open the storm shutters in the midst of the wind and rain and gives us a glimpse of where he might be taking us, and we take a deep breath and plunge ahead.

Our storms have created more space for us to experience and deeply soak in what he's doing. 

For beyond those storms, we catch a little peek at our very own promised land.

It may not look anything like we've imagined and it might be a completely different location than where we originally thought we were heading, but it's there waiting for us to conquer the giants and enter into it.

But not just yet.

The vision isn't very clear yet, but we can see it out there in the distance. 

It's not meant for right now, but for a future time. In God's flawless and impeccable timing, he will bring it to pass.

And that gives us the courage to persevere. 

Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,

    and he brought them out of their distress.

He stilled the storm to a whisper;

    the waves of the sea were hushed.

They were glad when it grew calm,

    and he guided them to their desired haven. 

- Ps. 107:28-30 (NIV)

After the worst of the storm passed, I realized I didn’t need the brewed-ahead coffee after all. I never lost power at my house. 

But I wondered if I could depend on the thermos when it counted, so twelve hours after I made it, I poured myself a cup. 

The coffee was still piping hot. Promise kept.

So I’ll just hold onto my giant thermos and {nearly} 67 batteries for next time.

Because when you live in Florida, you know there's probably another fierce tropical storm coming your way in the future. 

But for now, in the aftermath, I'm rejoicing and reveling in the exquisite, delicate and very restful calm that only comes after the storm.

I'm having coffee with my friends at Holley Gerth's place at Coffee for your Heart. Join me there to read posts from my blogger friends!