Only seven weeks old, and she’s seen her first hurricane. Actually, “heard” might be more accurate. I’m not sure any of us held her up to the window to watch the rain fall, but we were both awake to hear the wind in the night.
It was a wind to make you thank heaven for thick brick walls, even while you wondered if the storm windows would hold.
She breathes warmth and peace into the side of my neck, and I am newly determined: when storm clouds hover I will, like this baby girl, expect to be cared for.
I will practice hope.
I will assume Jesus meant it when he said we have no reason to worry.
When Hurricane Sandy threatened to cut off our power and water, I lined up baby bottles on my window ledge. They were filled to the brim with clean water. Then I went and filled a few more containers with water. And then, a few more. Possibly, a few more after that.
Does the Lord of the storm (Job 40:6) love me any less?
“Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out of their distress. He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed.”
(Psalm 107: 28-29)
(photo by yours truly)
So pure and sweet. The visual is profound. I’ve had some favorites, but this one is my favorite to date.
Thank you, Valarie. I’ve been wondering if it’s worthwhile to continue writing when I can only find a few minutes here and there to give to it. Knowing that you appreciated this post (when I just barely managed to squeeze it out) is incredibly encouraging to me.
Love that visual of sweet little Elisa’s dependence upon you just as we should be dependent on our heavenly father. Thank you. This may be one of my favorite posts too