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Friday, August 19, 2011

The Perfect Storm

When a storm treads its way up the bayshore in late summer, we have no choice but to watch.

With all haste, we ran to watch the storm roll in. Our hearts out-ran our minds as we raced to the wide open spot we have known before. From there, the storm was center stage. It had no choice but to perform.

What an odd storm you and I thought in unison. And it was unique. Nothing seemed to fit: a few clouds would roll by, here a lighting strike, there a thunder clap. The usual phenomena of a storm, but these were thrown together like random ingredients for a cake never before tasted.

We waited for the thunder to follow the lighting; it never came. We anticipated the rain as the sky grew darkest; it never materialized. Something was off-kilter with this storm; there was a meteorological mishap to send us this heavenly jest.

You and I looked deep within each other. We saw the confusion and battered spirits within our own souls. We knew the storm was simply a reflection of the beauty that was tossed about within.

With unspoken words we told each other of the fragmented bits of life we were experiencing. We felt as if we were ships, ships whose only contact with solid ground was being battered against random rocks along the voyage. It seemed as if our destination was straight ahead, but along the way, we ran into a number of twists and turns that knocked us for a loop.

We looked for an anchor within ourselves; there was none.

We looked for harbor without; only ocean was found.

We sought refuge anywhere we could; no one had answers to our illusions.

We knew it would be faith that would have to drive us home. Faith: the inherent knowledge that there was a Grand Artist who would put it all together. Faith: the firm belief that there was a designer that was piecing all the disparate elements of our lives together, like a celestial quilt being woven throughout the heavens.

Realizing it would take a Father of Lights to piece together the scraps of existence we called life was a freeing prospect. No longer were we wayward souls on a damned voyage; we were heavenly children on a trip home.

Faith sent a whole new light onto the many questions we had accumulated along the journey. And suddenly, a storm that had made no sense was the perfect storm, because there had been a divine hand behind it all the time.

I am sharing this with Brag on God Fridays.

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