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.
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.)
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.