the waves and winds still know

We've had days of wind - again, incessantly, always - and it is a beautiful, lovely, hateful thing. I love watching the trees bow and the grasses fly and the leaves twirl up in little tornadoes. I love it from this side of the window, with cozy blankets and steaming tea and the woodstove going full bore.

From the other side of the window, I've never been real fond of the wind. It's dirty, makes my hair feel gross, and I can't breathe in it. And I really enjoy breathing, you know.

I used to love listening to the wind howl at night, safely inside, under warm blankets...until about four years ago, when a tree fell on our house, and suddenly I realized that the wind can be a dangerous thing.

Suddenly the charm of listening to the raging storm was not so romantic, but a little...fearful. Nerve-wracking. Tense. The volume of it comes in waves and I wonder from under the warmth of our down comforter if this gust or the next one is going to bring another tree down on us.

(We could cut the trees down around our house, you say? Not really. We did cut some, but many of them are on our neighbor's property. They're not ours to cut. Bummer.)

So I stay up some nights listening and wondering and praying. The roaring, the rattling in the chimney, the whistle across the stovepipes. The occasional shaking of the walls from what would qualify as hurricane force  if we lived anywhere other than Alaska.

The wind at night has taught me to pursue peace. It blows outside, and it's loud, and I know that I'm still protected. I declare that I am still safe. I revel in knowing the danger of the wind and yet also knowing my own perfect security in the middle of the storm, because the One who keeps the winds is the same One who holds me.

be still my soul

thy God doth undertake

to guide the future as He has the past

thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake

all now mysterious shall be bright at last

be still my soul

the waves and winds still know

His voice who ruled them

while He dwelt below

 - Catharina von Schlegel

I refuse to worry about the results of this election. Four years ago, a different kind of tree (of sorts) also fell on us. Apparently America still has to learn from her mistake, and we can't choose for our neighbor what trees to cut out of their property, no matter how close to our home they hit.

The storm continues to rage and blow (oh, does it blow, sometimes!) and it causes everything around it to bow down like the trees in the wind.

Everything will bow.

The louder it gets, the more I know His peace.