UNTIL THE STORM PASSES
By Carolyn Dale Newell
You are my hiding place; You shall preserve me from trouble; You shall surround me with songs of deliverance. Selah
Psalm 32:7 NKJV
I snuggled beneath the warm covers. Iva raised up, but she curled up between us. Good! She would go back to sleep. Iva possesses an internal clock with a 6 AM alarm that usually is flawless. My phone announced lightening had been detected within a four-mile radius. Hopefully, Iva would sleep until the storm passed.
Siri announced another notification about rain. I barely heard it above the thunder cracking and waves breaking outside our oceanfront hotel.
Thoughts rushed through my head. I would have to dig out our matching glow-worm green rain coats. Iva hates her raincoat, because she doesn’t want anything on her head. If we go out now, the thunder may frighten Iva. She never reacts to it, but that can always change. taking her out to the bathroom could result in getting struck by lightning. Not likely, but possible. Please Lord, let the storm pass by before Iva awakes.
Lightening flashed. Iva stirred. I laid still. She nestled up to my husband. She moved blankets and pillows to lay her head on his chest. Daddy, keep me safe from the lightening.
I drifted back to sleep. I woke up when my hubby was taking Iva out. All that remained of the storm was a drizzle. Iva returned to our room slightly damp.
When our path takes us through the storms of life, we often focus on the what-ifs. We stress about every possible scenario our storm could present. None of my fears came to fruition. Iva was spared from the humiliation of her raincoat. Thunder failed to startle her, and no one was struck by lightning.
Iva came through the storm with just a few raindrops on her. Thanks to my husband, I benefited from the storm by gaining a few minutes of sleep.
Storms threaten us. They hold us hostage to our own anxieties. Many storms are extremely serious. An illness. A death. An accident. Finances, family, jobs, addictions, heartache, pain, sorrow, prodigals, abandonment, grief, and the list go on. These storms damage and destroy, but we add to their destruction by our what-ifs.
When the thunder rolls and lightening splits the sky, we can take a hint from Iva. We must snuggle up to our heavenly Daddy. Move things out of the way. Push them aside like Iva pawed at the sheets. We can nestle under our Father’s wings in safety and security.
Instead of asking, “what if,” let’s ask, “who will?” God will! His wings dim the lightening bolts. He softens the thunder. He keeps us dry and warm, until the storm passes.
Copyright 2018 Carolyn Dale Newell.