With the blackness touching my face and the silence filling my ears, there was no sleep for me. I lay there wondering how I became so accustomed to today’s sensory input that I couldn’t even find peace in the wake of a storm. I thought how dark and quiet the nights must have been for my grandparents. When their lamp was snuffed out, and the stars and moon were swallowed by the heavy bellied clouds, the dark was solid. There were no security lights; no traffic casting a glow through their dark windows as we have now. But there was more than the dark and quiet keeping me awake. It was that question in the back of my mind – what would I find in the morning’s light? What changes would the storm have brought that I couldn’t yet see?

Unable to await daylight, I entered the darkness by lantern and found some of the porch furniture cast into a bed of perennial plants that I was rather fond of, including beautiful 3 feet tall ivory colored Calla lilies, now lying flat on the ground under a large potted schefflera. I wrestled the potted plant back up onto the porch, and placed the lighter metal furniture pieces back onto their home as well. Taking my wet self back inside, I waited for the electricity to bring our ‘normal’ unnatural night lights, motor humming, and sleep.

With daylight I was better able to survey the damage, and for us the casualties were minimal. As quickly as the thought “what a mess!” entered my head, it was chased by the knowledge that this is nothing, and my heart was heavy for all the homes that suffered real damage this spring alone, by flood and tornado. I felt ashamed for grieving my lovely Callas. But then, I thought of those verses in God’s Word about even one little lamb being sought when the remaining flock was safe (Luke 15:4-5); and the one pearl of great price (Matthew 13:46); and sweeping the house clean to find one coin (Luke 15:8-9). Yes, my beautiful Callas were important to me, with all the work I’ve invested into that flower bed, and the pleasure I’ve had looking out the window at their beauty. Oh, I’m not really grieving, or “all tore up”, as we say around here. But as always, nature speaks to me of God and His ways. So, I lifted their sad little faces and supported them with a trellis, and salvaged a small bouquet to enjoy the creamy perfection in their blooms.

I’m comforted in the knowledge that my Father in heaven gets down in the deep with me to shoulder my burdens; lifts my face, picks me up when I’ve fallen; supports me and continues to work with what I have to give. If you’ve weathered a storm of your own lately, or perhaps in the midst of despair even now, you are surely fearful of what you will find in the path your storm takes. I would encourage us all to look up to our amazing God, Who by His grace and through Jesus Christ, saves us; and our sweet Holy Spirit Who takes our cry from the depths of our lows to the Father. He hears, and He works more mightily than we can imagine. Bring what you have to the table and let it shine. You are as important to Him as the whole flock, more worthy than ten times your weight in silver coins; a pearl of great price. He will salvage, He will save, He will keep you in His wisdom and time.

“He calms the storm, So that its waves are still.  Then they are glad because they are quiet; So He guides them to their desired haven.  Oh, that men would give thanks to the Lord for His goodness, And for His wonderful works to the children of men!” Psalm 107:29-31 (NKJV)

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, And renew a steadfast spirit within me.” Psalm 51:10