Storms

As a Floridian, I know storms. Bring the Florida rain, the hurricanes, and even the tornadoes. I grew up on those—from elementary school drills to highlighted plans as reminders of what to do when things start getting uncertain.

And even in my 30s I see a storm and run to Walmart to stock up. I try to check in with loved ones, I change the voicemail so people can be updated. I even fill up the gas if I need to drive to safety. The storm is mine as long as my checklist is close by and there aren’t open items.

The planning gives me peace. It lets me breathe out from inflamed lungs that stress my very makeup. It makes me think I am in control.

Control. Or the idea of it is such a fragile thing. Control by Oxford Languages is defined as the power to influence or direct people’s behavior or the course of events. I feel peace when I am in control. I, dare I say it, have peace when I control my environment. To the best of my ability that is.

So what happens when I lose control? Do I lose my peace also? This then makes me wonder if my peace is predicated on my idea of control. If so, is it peace? Or is it a false reality that allows me to stay put – for the time being?

And if so, how does this checklist work? How does checking off a task bring me joy? What are these feelings? This version of life is the journey of balance, so naturally, a lot of questions arise. From who I am? What I am called to be? Most importantly, does this promote balance? Balance in a spiritual aspect is compromised of me being in touch with my Creator and their plan for my life. A plan that only is revealed to me as needed. So in my journey, my checklist is my attempt to create an atmosphere where balance can reside. Keep it honest, peaceful, and pure.

Then life happens. It reminds me that the control I cling to is still fragile. When Twan walked away my control was out of wack. My peace takes a blow when my brother tells me my lifestyle is sinful. But balance is reminding me that my journey is mine alone. My feelings can and will get hurt, but my storm resilience is growing. I am becoming strong. I’m wallowing less. I rationalize quicker. And forgiveness is at an all-time high. 

I recognize this life is a story that is still being written. The same amount of energy spent on the delete button while typing this is the same number of times I have to let the last storm strengthen me. It’s an additional layer of sand to reach me. It is not a barrier, but a reinforcer and reminder that the layers I possess are levels I have grown. And will continue to grow. So come what may. I’m ready. Not me on my own accord, but the God who created me and continues to show me that all things work together for the good of those who are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28). It is His goodness and mercy that help me sleep through the storm and know when I wake this storm was the nourishment I needed.

So I end this piece with a necessary prayer.

God, we thank you for the storms,

The storms that enlighten us and even hurt us as we realize it is always you. It has always been you. You are the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. Your goodness and mercy encompass us, especially in the storms. We trust your plan. We trust your ways. And we speak and conduct ourselves as conquerors over any storm that comes our way because You have brought it to us. After all, you have already brought us through it. Have your way, Lord. And let your people proclaim how good You are.  In your name, we pray. Amen.