The Storm Inside
If you live on the east coast you just prepared for and/or are enduring a true Nor’easter named Stella. The news describes her as ‘Dangerous’ and a ‘Bomb’ of a storm, ‘Hammering’ the Northeast dumping more than 2 feet of snow in record time with blizzard conditions. She’s a big storm coming through with a fierce and mighty force.
I spent the last couple days watching and wondering how big and how bad the storm would be. I got all the groceries we needed, made sure the generator was working, which it isn’t, and saved water in the refrigerator in case we lost power and our well didn’t work. I filled a tub full of water so we could flush the toilets. While doing all of this I was nervous, uncomfortable and scared. Big storms make me nervous. I don’t know what’s going to happen and if something will damage our home or cars. I feel, and am, very much out of control. I hate these storms and am at least as frightened as I used to be when I was a child.
And I’m sick of being nervous about them.
It dawned on me when I was in the shower washing off the sweat from shoveling the massive amount of snow on the driveway, that I want to be a storm. I want to be big and unruly and plow through an entire region wreaking havoc in my path. I want to blow my way up the coast and let everybody know I’m serious and powerful and BIG. Yeah, I want to be big, so big they can’t predict just how big I’ll be. They’ll all know they better get ready because I’m coming through with a vengeance.
That sounds fabulous to me! To be so big and mighty that I whip my way through anywhere I feel like flying. To throw down branches and recklessly send garbage cans flying as I thrash through an area is thrilling. As I sit in the den writing this, listening to the wind gusting outside the window I want to be that wind. I want to be so unpredictable and wild that no one could ever tame me. I want everyone to watch out and move aside as I come through. Prepare to be amazed and entranced by my force, and just a little bit afraid of what I might do.
I just wrote a piece on sacrifice and the season of Lent and, as usual, laid myself bare with all the vulnerability of a child. Where is this vital force coming from? Maybe I went into the darkness and this is what I found, a huge storm churning and grumbling inside of me wanting to burst into freedom so abandoned the world can only wait and watch to see what may come.
Oh how I hope this is true.
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