It had been a beautiful week up North. We were celebrating forty years of marriage. We’d hiked through trails in beautiful and scenic Glacier National Park. Drove through a thunder and rainstorm like we’d never experienced before in Montana. And then, we arrived at Banff National Park in Canada. Our plan was to enjoy the scenery, stay at a luxury resort, and enjoy our time in our neighboring country. After our resort stay, we planned to backpack in wilderness we’d not seen before.

But those plans changed. We didn’t know it, but we were entering a storm in that hot summer July. A storm I’d never forget.

Storms will come…..

There was a storm in Oregon and Washington in the 1960’s. It was the hurricane of the century. A powerful one. The wind outside the walls of our house sounded like a freight train. I was scared.  After the noisy and destructive wind storm, there was calm. The October skies were clear like only fall skies can be in the NorthWest. The chimney of our house lay on the roof as though a giant hand gently laid it down. The church next door to our house–the parsonage–was missing a major part of the roof. It was thrown a block away. There was also no power at our house for more than a week, with no school either.

Storms are like that. They come almost out of nowhere. Like the thunder and lightening that summer’s day in Montana, or  the PNW, where a hurricane rarely, but sometimes descends.

How do we react to those storms? Are we full of fear in the noise and turbulence as I was so many years ago? Or is it a storm of uncertainty? Is it pain or illness?

I wondered if I would get through either of those storm safely. Unlike the hurricane of years earlier, the experience of watching my loved one in pain didn’t pass overnight. It seemed to increase in volume like that October storm. The next day and the next week seemed worse than before. In this storm of illness and pain, I waited and wondered if God was aware of our troubles. During those hot days of summer, I wondered if this nightmare would ever end.

Weeks passed. As I read my Bible in the heat of summer, waiting for relief for my husband’s pain, I read this:

4For, the Lord said to me:

I will quietly look out from My place,
like shimmering heat in sunshine,
like a rain cloud in harvest heat (Isaiah 18:4 HCSB).

Those words comforted my wondering mind as thoughts of will Bill would get better? Would I survive without him if he didn’t get better? 

We spent time in the emergency waiting room, hoping they would admit Bill to the hospital and help his pain. I learned how to negotiate on the phone with the advice nurses, insisting my husband couldn’t sit with other coughing sick people because he’d had chemotherapy. During a hospital stay Thanksgiving week, I felt frustration and fear. The hot summer had passed and Bill hadn’t gotten better. The harvest had taken place and now, here we were in late autumn-early winter. I nearly gave up until late one evening, I heard a voice singing down the hall from my husband’s quiet, drug-induced slumber. I heard words like this:

Precious Lord, take my hand

Lead me on to the light

I am tired, I am weak, I am worn..(Thomas Dorsey).

I heard more gospel hymns that night. They gave me strength for the days ahead. I knew I was not alone. God was with me in spite of the yawning uncertain future.

Storms will be a part of everyone’s life. They just are part of the rhythm of nature and also rhythm of life. God is not deaf or unfeeling in our storm. He is there. In spite of your feeling alienated, alone, know He is there in the storm and the quietness after the storm.

There have been other storms. Some even more fierce than ones I mentioned. I can tell you, the best place to be when in a storm–or the quiet after the storm–is at the feet of Jesus. Feet of Jesus? What do I mean by that? A place of worship and prayer to the Maker of the Universe. The Savior of my soul.

This morning, I read a theme in a devotional about watching and waiting. One of the verses gave me hope for the future in a seemingly frightening future. It’s in the last book of the Bible.

Then I heard a great voice from the throne crying, “See! The home of God is with men, and he will live among them. They shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death shall be no more, and never again shall there be sorrow or crying or pain. For all those former things are past and gone” (Revelation 21:3-4 Phillips).

Wow! He will be with us. He will wipe away every tear. Death no more. Or sorrow or crying or pain. One day, the storms will end.

Father God, help me through the storms of life. Thank you that I can give you all of my worries and cares of life to You. You cared enough to die in my place. Thank you for reminding me You are there. And one day, there will be no tears or crying or pain. In Your name, Jesus, Amen.

First the Storm

And then the calm…..