It's Just A Storm

"And He arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, 
Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm."
Mark 4:39
(KJV)

Storms come up lightning-fast here in the mountains.

Whew!

You can be sitting here in the stillness and calm one minute,

and the next minute flurrying around closing windows and praying for safety.

We've had some doozy-strength storms lately.

The other day, one came up out of nowhere, with no warning whatsoever.

The hail was hitting the windows with such force, it sounded like someone was pounding them with rocks.

Tonight, another hit so suddenly, we had no time to prepare.

When storms hit here, I have noticed something.

While the rest of us are fretting, rushing to look outside,

nervous, worried, and upset,

Dad Smith remains unbothered.

He sits in his favorite spot and watches as we go all to pieces.

He is quiet and steadfast and unmoved.
This World War II Veteran has seen a lot worse than any of us.

The other day, Kevin took him to the Veterans Administration Hospital for his doctor's appointment.
As Dad walked up the ramp, holding on to his walker, towards the door,
another Veteran walked up behind them.

"What were you in,
World War II?"
the stranger asked Dad.

"Yes", Dad replied.

"Wow!  I thought so."
There was a tone of deep respect in his voice.

As they reached the door,
Dad said to him,
"You go in first...go on around us.
I'm kind of slow."

The stranger stood still and said,
"No way.  You go first.  You've earned it."

I couldn't agree more.

The older I get, the more I admire his strength and fortitude.

It comforts me when he is physically able to join us at the table for meals.

There is just something about him sitting there, in his rightful place,

at the head of the dining room table.

When he is too weak to make the trek from the living room,

just a few steps away, it is just not the same.

Dad S. is a strong man.

Not so much physically, anymore.

He used to be.

I remember the day he could measure up to the strongest of men

and work as hard as anyone I've ever known.

These days, he is failing....

becoming alarmingly and steadily more feeble.

It hurts to watch this process.

I lived through it with my own dear Dad,

then almost 12 years later with Mom,

and now I walk hand-in-hand with Kevin as he makes this same journey with his parents.

It is beyond difficult to watch the ones who have always taken care of you

turn into the ones who need you to take care of them.

It is not an easy process to reverse roles.

It is downright painful...it makes me cry.

Dad's strength comes from deep inside these days.

It isn't so evident on the outside, but it shines through in his character.

The other day, when the hail was hitting the windows and everyone else was alarmed,

I looked over at him.
I needed to see his reaction.
It is important to me.

"It's just a storm", he said, in his calm, reassuring way.

I don't know...there was just something about his serene demeanor that calmed me right down.
I figured if he said it was just a storm, then it was just a storm,
and in the end, we were all going to be just fine.

He has lived long enough to realize that storms are temporary,

and to get all ruffled and upset at their onset is just an unnecessary irritation.
I wonder just how many storms he has lived through in his almost 89 years of life?
How many times has he looked into a cloud-darkened sky and felt the wind on his face?
How many times has he survived and kept going strong?
Judging by his lack of worry, I'd say it's been quite a few...
more than he probably even remembers.

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Dad Smith has lived through his share of heartache, physical afflictions, disappointment, and hurt. He has weathered the storms of life, and he has remained stalwart, undaunted, and brave.
Having lost both of my own parents, I know one day, Kevin will have to say good-bye to both of his. The thought fills me with terrible dread and heartache.... I don't like to think about it. I don't like to even picture coming here...to these mountains I love so much... and not finding those two welcoming gray heads waiting and watching for us from their back window.
I fully realize I am one of the blessed ones. I dearly love my in-laws, and they mean the world to me. More than ever, now that Mom and Dad are gone. They love me, too...like a daughter. They not only tell me, they show it every second we are together. There is no distance between us, and our bond grows deeper as years go by.
I draw from their strength...and wisdom....and consistency...and wellspring of love and   old-time values. People like them are a vanishing breed. They are rare and hard to find.
Everything you and I face in this life is fleeting...temporary. As the quote says, "It didn't come to stay, it came to pass." Heartache, pain, hurt, betrayal, sickness, disease, disappointment, loss, grief, sorrow, remorse...all of it. None of it lasts forever. Some storms of life are much more turbulent than others, but through it all, we have an Anchor. It is the anchor that holds Dad S. fast when he hears bad news, when a storm comes up out of nowhere, when he is hit with things like double pneumonia, congestive heart failure, heart attacks, and hydrocephalus.
He keeps pressing forward...regardless...knowing that one day he will reach his eternal home, where there are no more tears, no more pain, and no more storms. He's weathered enough storms to know that he is a survivor...a trooper....who comes through his trials stronger than he went in to them.



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I have to admit, each night when we tell him good-night, and I watch him struggle to his room, his back bent low, his steps tottery and faltering, the same dreaded question plagues and hangs over my mind.
Will we get another day together? Oh, the fragile thread of life! So easily broken. So brittle and unpredictable. I watched him tonight, walked behind him, towards the hall. "Dad, I hope you sleep well. I hope you feel better tomorrow."
Don't we always hope that tomorrow will be a better day? Especially, when we watch someone we love suffer day after day?
I reached my hand to his stooped shoulder, and I patted him, while telling him I loved him.
"I love you, too, Cheryl." His voice broke...I could tell he was holding back tears.
I think he knows our time together is limited and becoming more so each passing moment.
The other day, Kevin, Zachary, and I debated over whether we should come back to see them so soon. In the midst of our debate, he called. Due to his failing hearing, he doesn't call often. I answered, and our conversation went something like this, "Hi, Dad, how are you feeling?"
"I'm doing better, Cheryl."
"We have been worried about you and praying for you."
"I know. You'd never believe where we are sitting right now."
In my mind, I had no doubt. I could just picture them there...seeing it in my mind made me miss them more. "On the porch, right?"
"Yes.  Sitting here on the swing, swinging side-by-side."
"I sure wish we were there with you, Dad."
The huskiness in his voice gave his tears away. "You sure don't wish it anymore than we do."
That did it. Nothing could have kept us away after that. We came. We are here. I'm glad.
Tonight, it was just a storm...just like Dad said it would be. Here are some pictures I took while it was going on...and in the still calmness after it was over.

See the raindrops?

It is amazing how quickly the cloud formations change.

Just like in life...things can change in the blink of an eye.

The whole dynamics of your situation and your life can be altered without a moment's notice.

The swing...

where Mom and Dad spend a lot of time together...side by side...

and where I seem to migrate at night...when all is quiet and still here in these mountains.

I love to go here after dark to think and meditate and hear God speak.

This is the very spot where the inspiration for some of these devotions are birthed.

The evening sun shines again...right through the clouds.

Now it sinks beneath the mountain across the road...

and the storm is past.

Country calm is restored. See the lightning bug in the middle.... have you ever tried to photograph a lightning bug and catch the light at just the right moment?

You can barely see it, but it is there...a little to the right of center.
Another storm is over...long past now... it is night time here in the mountains, and two sweet boys "camping out" on a mattress in the middle of the living room floor  sleep soundly near to where I sit on the couch. They played hard, so they'll sleep good tonight. I hear the steadiness of their breathing...it somehow comforts me and gives me hope. Parents are our past. Children are our future. How very grateful I am...in this moment...of calm and solitude, as I realize the winds and rain are gone, and, again, peace reigns, and all is right with the world. If you are facing a turbulent time, remember this, my friend.... it's just a storm. Just hang on and trust and hold tight to God's unchanging hand. This too shall pass, just like our wind and rain passed through tonight...here in the mountains.  It turns out Dad was right to remain calm and unafraid. It was just a passing storm...just like he knew it would be.