A strong line of high winds and thunderstorms passed through last night in the deepest hours of darkness when the world seems most vulnerable and a house’s shell most fragile. I lay awake, watching the flashes of lightning, hearing the thunderclaps, feeling the impact of wind and rain against my windows. Living in a city provides a sense of protection with houses almost touching and wide paved areas impenetrable to rain. Here on the island each of us is exposed, open expanses for sheets of water and wind to explore, wide windows and doors for branches to crash, pine cones that strike like missiles.
I can understand how the disciples must have felt in their storm-tossed boat on the sea, so fearful they woke Jesus. He rose and quieted storm. Sometimes I feel as if the boat of my life is rocking out of control, and I want to make certain Jesus isn’t sleeping, ignorant of my plight. Please, Lord, quiet the storms in my life, both those that rage within and without. Grant me the faith to outwait the storm, faith to know you are not asleep. Amen.