sitting in the storm

I was washing dishes when I heard the familiar rumble outside that I had anticipated earlier while watching dark clouds rolling in over the barn. I had looked forward to an evening cozy inside my little cabin, protected from the winds and rain, listening to the sound of the drops pounding on the tin roof and the wood deck. But when I heard the rumble… suddenly, surprisingly, I felt that to watch the weather from my comfortable little kitchen wasn’t enough. I want to be in it, the thought flashed through my mind, totally unexpected. No, I told myself. But… another rumble, and the pond down the hill began to show signs of the incoming rain. 

I ran upstairs, tore off my work clothes, threw on a t-shirt and shorts, and ran barefoot outside. As the surroundings darkened with the looming clouds, I curled up on my deck chair under the open sky and breathed in deeply. Excitedly. Ready for anything. 

The thunder boomed. The trees swayed. Forest animals scurried back to their holes, the horses ran for shelter. The rain came; each cold drop sent shivers through my body. I let it soak me. I urged on the wind, and it blew cold against my wet legs. I sat small, taking it in, the force and power and strength of the elements. 

I wasn't waiting for anything tremendous to happen, wasn't expecting God to speak. Neither happened anyway. But most of all I was just alive, just present, just speechless from the boundless grandeur, the lack of control that I was finally learning to embrace.

It has been a long journey through the desert in my soul, and I'm sure it's not over yet. But something is changing in me, something has shifted. I’m no longer the girl who hides, who fears. I’m no longer the worrier, no longer the one who runs for cover. I’m the one who has learned that there is nothing to fear. I’m the woman who chooses to sit in the storm.