A Reaction To Thunder

I’ve had so many thoughts tumbling around my noggin’ lately, yet somehow, I’ve managed to articulate next to zero of them.  It seems that my incessant list making has robbed my brain of nearly every creative cell.  Oy ve.

However, the creativity has somewhat revived through a couple of different events: 
=Helping Trevor house hunt
-Taking on a nanny role

Both of these happenings have revived a part of my heart that had been asleep for quite sometime.  Assisting in the house hunting process resuscitated my love for construction and design.  Yep, the paint samples, carpet swatches, fresh drywall, and unplumbed model homes really do inspire me.  Call me crazy, but the blank canvas of an unfinished home provides an ample amount of creative fuel for me.  

Also, taking care of a little person (a two year old doll, who shall remain nameless out of respect and protection) has already proved to be a source of reflection and introspection, along with satisfying my heart of investing in and teaching others.  

Today I found myself rather overwhelmed at the amount of tasks I needed to accomplish during naptime.  And it rained--actually stormed--in Cville.  For the first time in ages.  Conveniently, during naptime.  Consequently, my stress level elevated with every clap of thunder and the increasing sounds of whimpering coming from the front bedroom.  Pay bills.  Cancel satellite in Spfd house.  Find a new bank.  Transfer insurance policy.  Finish substitute application.  Call Mom.  Write bios for Women’s Retreat.  The list goes on…

Yet, at the first cry from the wee one—I’ll call her ‘Little Miss’—I was crib side, back patting, voice soothing.  And I had no idea what had taken over.  Instinct?  Perhaps.  The thunder ceased momentarily and the whimpers subsided, so back to the crib it was…only to be repeat the cycle twice more over the course of the next twenty minutes.  And so I wound up in the rocker, two-year-old gripping tightly, snuggling to sleep.  All I could think about was the Father’s love.

Only moments before, Little Miss cried from the crib, “Ganger!  Ganger!  Ganger!”  (Translation:  “Thunder!  Thunder!  Thunder!”)  Yet, now she clung tightly, securely, calmly to me and slept peacefully.

And I thought about how often I do the same.  I freak at the sign of the storm, the threatening sounds of thunder.  I panic at the lack of employment, the insufficient funds, the unresolved stressors.  But all I really need is to trust in the arms of Love—to find the place, the Giver, of peace.  And rest.  Rest.    

My, how I struggle with that.  I knew going into this whole life-turned-upside-down-transition mode would be tough.  Among the uncertainties, that was one thing the Lord made clear.  I didn’t, however, anticipate the ways that this would be tough.  So far, the toughest part is the trusting part.  It’s trusting in the midst of the thunder and the rain and the low visibility—that’s the challenge.  But that’s also the reward:  trusting and resting in those arms.

So, what’s my reaction to thunder?  Is it to cry and fear?  Or is it to take advantage of the storm as an opportunity to draw near, to find comfort, to find rest?

What’s your reaction to thunder?

Be blessed, friends.  And find rest.