up come a storm
It was a little after midnight. All is dark. There are no shadows. As I lay in bed I am awakened by thunderous rain. Amplified by my metal roof it sounded like a torrent of fury was unleashed on my house. Some rain falls to replenish, refresh, and renew. A pleasure to listen to and to view. But this rain came destructive, damaging, and disdainful of anything in its path. Water, by far the most destructive force in nature, claiming more lives that any other weather related threat to mankind. Remember the Indian Ocean tsunami in 2004 killing at least 225 to 300,000 people.
As I laid there I entertained a fleeting thought of my roof being bored into so great was the sound. And then I began to assess in my mind the possible damage. Trees down, branches and twigs on the ground with torrents of water carving gullies in the road as it rushes down the graveled incline that leads to my abode. All along the hillside that surrounds the house rubbish, rocks, sand and gravel would be carried into the field leaving behind traces of damage like a battlefield. Not the first time but I dreaded the aftermath of what I would find. Reconciling myself to what I knew would be true I laid and listened to the deafening rush of water until it subsided with a faint tapping on my roof and then done.
Laying quietly I then decided to get up and check my home weather station to see how much rain had fallen, Looking at the monitor with a double take I saw that it measured no rain at all. I surmised that it had fallen so fast it must have splashed out of the small concave cup that gathered the rain. Returning to bed and finding a bit of repose come early mornin’ I arose, and with a cup of coffee stepped out onto the deck to greet a beautiful serene new day. The first thing I noticed was all my plants were not beaten down and broken and a dry deck free of debris. Walking down the steps and onto the road there were no deep ravines and a little further I stood and looked at my field. There was no damage!! There was no evidence of rain! No trees down or branches on the ground. Nothing, just nothing, but a storm the likes of which I have never experienced just the same.
Returning to my deck I sat and pondered. What does this mean? I was fully awake. This was no dream. The storm and deafening downpour was heard, but only by me. I was home alone. But the storm had declared His presence. Like a lighthouse I stood solitary on a rocky escarpment the sea roaring all around and like the prophet the voice I sought for was not to be found in the sound. I was troubled feeling like an island with little influence with my family and the few I called friend and those intrepid readers of WINGS. As well I continued to face circumstances within and all about that resisted change and all my efforts resulting in the same dang thing. Clouds without rain. That I believe is the definition of being insane.
There is a great storm upon us this time in Americas heartland, not just on foreign soil. And there will be wind, earthquake and fire on the mountain and like the days of Noah there will be the sound of rain. Nothing will hold back the tide of events that is befalling us personally or for this nation. There will come a roar, a deafening sound as millions are caught in a maelstrom of mortal conflict. Looking at the storm will you bail with all your might fearing for your life, while the maker of the storm and the very breath you breathe lies on a pillow with you making his bed in the very storm you so fearfully dread? And then He speaks to the storm and says ‘be still’…….and all is hushed. In the morning you will find just as I, there is no evidence of a storm, no damage, and you are safe on the other side.
The wise man built on rock, the solid Rock an adamant stone, and the foolish man built on sand which is capricious crushed rock the creation of mortal man. When the storm comes will you be found standing on solid ground or washed away on shifting sand, your feet planted on the shore and paralyzed by fear as a wave of destruction draws near? The arc you have put your trust in, a path of a body as it travels through space, will determine your outcome and final resting place, nestled high in the mountain or scattered lifeless on the ground.
He that hath an ear to hear may he know the voice, the one true voice of the spirit. A still small voice is speaking. Are you listening? or attuned to the world and the sound that drowns. Search for the solace of silence. And remember the same water that will drown and cover everything on the ground will also float your boat.