North of the Storm

We've had quite a week of Texas weather. Every day has brought clouds and a feeling of being acutely unsettled. Mornings would greet us with indecision, and the close humid air was suffocating.

Saturday evening I checked the weather and saw a huge line of storms moving along the southern border of our county. They were tracking due east. My children ran outside to dance and sway with the trees and they squealed at the distant thunder, knowing that we were safely out of reach.

I gathered up my keys and purse and headed out to buy some last minute birthday gifts for my Little Boo. The stores were north of my house, so I didn't need to worry about boots or rain gear. I took DH's little car, once again confident that the roads were not going to become flooded.

As I drove, facing the glorious blue sky and piercing sun, I was amazed at the contrast of my views. Out my windshield was the remnants of a typical Texas summer day... streaks of clouds with a tint of amber, the brilliant blue sky just beyond. In my rear view mirror, a muddy sky with gray and midnight blue, flashes of lightning, and grumblings of thunder were dotted by the headlights of those cars emerging from the storm.

I was caught somewhere in the middle.

To my left, the fingers of the storm were stretching, eager to bring the northern towns into it's wrath and fury. As I sped north, I could almost feel the struggle. The draw of the beautiful storm was fighting the serenity of sunset... and losing. There was security in that, and my shoulders could relax and enjoy the dichotomy.

There have been a few storms in my life these days. This summer has been filled with them. Luckily, though, I've managed to stay just out of reach of the main fury. There have been no direct strikes so to speak. But they have been just close enough to exude feelings of anxiety and even fear. I could smell the the storm just as those old Texas ranchers can catch a whiff of rain on a cloudless day and herd their cattle to safety.

The answer for me has been to flee. Flee to the comfort and safety of prayer and abandonment. Knowing that however this all turns out, I am ultimately not in control. There can be fear even in that knowledge, especially for someone as domineering as myself. The fingers of fear have clutched around my heart threatening to bring me under and pound me with their 'what ifs' and 'what might have beens.' And so the cycle of prayer and abandonment continues, until there is nothing left between me and He who steers the ship.

Between me and my North.



Cross-posted to DFW Catholic.