Out Running the Storm

10/21/06 11:27 p

All my life I have been awed by storms. The power contained in a thunderbolt or lightning flash is something I find continually fascinating. During storms, I find myself looking for a place to sit and watch. There is nothing so lovely as a deluge of rain, punctuated by lightning bolts and thunder. For me, the most exciting thing in the world would be to walk in the rain and feel the air tingle with electricity, smell the ozone as lightning strikes and feel the air vibrate with the roar of the thunder. But I’m only a little crazy. I find a nice sheltered place to curl up and watch the show. As I watch, I let my spirit soar with each strike of the finger of God. After the storm I feel exhilarated and refreshed.

On the Gulf Coast during hurricane season folks watch the skies over the Gulf of Mexico. In terms of sheer might, hurricanes are some of the strongest storms on earth, moving tons of water, packing winds that can exceed a hundred miles an hour, and covering hundreds of miles at a time once they make landfall.

As a Coastal native, I have experienced many hurricanes. My earliest hurricane memory is when we spent the night in the basement of the Catholic Church up the street from where I lived in Mobile, Alabama. I couldn’t have been more than 4 or 5 years old. It is the only time I ever remember leaving home because of a storm but I can’t even remember the name of that hurricane.

In 1969, when I was 13, Hurricane Camille blew into the Gulf Coast. Forecasters had predicted she would be a terrible storm and they were right. In her wake, she left more than 250 people dead and caused $1.5 billion dollars in damages from Louisiana to Virginia. We lived in Baldwin County, Alabama, just across the bay from Mobile and right in Camille’s path. Mama, my brother, Billy, and I sat up the whole night. As usual, Daddy went to bed and said, “Call me if things get bad.”  We never did have to call Daddy.

That night after the power went out, as it always did during hurricanes, we curled up on the sofa with the kerosene lanterns glowing in the darkness while the raging, roaring Camille rattled windows and banged on doors, like a legion of souls seeking shelter. During such times Mama told us stories of her childhood or fairytales known to every child. Sometimes we would softly sing hymns, so as not to wake Daddy. And always, we prayed. Mama once told me the reason Daddy made her stay up during hurricanes was because he knew she would pray.

Billy and I probably slept during the wee hours of the morning but Mama never slept much until a storm was over. She sat in the warm glow of the lantern light praying, reading, and catnapping. Not until daylight came were the lamps extinguished.

When we ventured out the morning after Camille, I was amazed. We lived in the county, surrounded by pinewoods. In our small community many tall southern pines surrounded the 60 homes and most yards had anywhere from 6 to 12 pines. That morning, trees lay toppled everywhere, across the roads, across yards, across houses. Yet, in our yard, not one tree had fallen and very few branches. Remembering the violent power of the storm the night before, I was astounded. I don’t recall Mama saying a word as neighbors came out of their houses to assay the damage. Everyone else went to work clearing debris and preparing to cut firewood. Camille was a poor guest.

One evening in the early 1990’s, after my husband got off work, we decided to take the boys on a trip to Ft. Campbell, Kentucky, to visit my sister. We got started rather late and the weather had grown very bad to the west. But since we were traveling east, we thought we could still make the trip. As we set out, rain fell lightly and lightning streaked across a sky darker than a Kentucky coal mine. Just northeast of town, headed toward Dale, Indiana, the lightning became more intense. All around us, on both sides of the highway, it streaked the night sky. Dozens of white lances at a time traced patterns in the blackness from the earth to the heavens. You could almost see the air sizzle. Never had I experienced such an awesome spectacle. It was better than any fireworks I had ever seen before or since. I yearned to park the car, get out, and watch. But I wasn’t driving and my more conservative husband said it wasn’t a good idea.

By the time we reached Dale the road signs were flapping like flags in the wind and the rain fell in glassy, gray sheets. Visibility extended about as far as the dashboard. We crept along at a snail’s pace. I still remember a secret delight in experiencing all that ferocious unleashing of power.

We couldn’t decide if we should turn back or keep going. We discussed possibilities. We knew that the storm had overtaken us but we thought it would push ahead or move off to the north. We thought when we reached the interstate we might be able to outrun it. We were right. When we reached the interstate, we left the storm behind. Later that night the storm caught up with us again but we were tucked safe in bed, in my sister’s home.

Most people are afraid of storms and they would never consider the mechanics of the storm to be interesting. But to appreciate something you must understand it. For instance, I know that a thunderstorm is caused by the collision of high- and low-pressure systems. This can happen slowly or very rapidly, depending on the variations in temperature of each system and other variables. The greater the difference in temperature at the front of the system, greater will be the violence of the storm. The collision of negative and positive charges in the air creates the violent explosions that we see as lightning and hear as thunder.

I also know that storms follow specific, predictable storm-tracks across the country, changing only with the seasons. The National Weather Service tracks them daily. And while the storms never deviate from those paths, they do strike randomly along them.

I know a lot about storms because I chose to study and watch them. Although, understanding the scientific explanation does not change my belief that thunderstorms are the most beautiful things in the world to watch, I do have a healthy respect for their power. We can never control nature’s storms because God set up laws of nature that determine how our environment operates and He will not break His own laws. However, He can and does use them for His purposes. So, until we understand how storms work we can never really appreciate them for the magnificent things they are  . . . the handiwork of God.

Life is filled with storms of a different sort. We look upon them as things to be feared. Just like nature’s storms, they have the power to kill. Our fears drive us to spend our lives trying to get ahead of approaching storms. Sometimes we turn back, not realizing we must come this way again or that what is behind may be worse than what is before us. Never once do we consider stopping by the side of the road to watch the storm pass over. What could be beautiful about a storm? Instead, we crawl under the bed or hide in a closet until they blow over.

But what if we understood life storms the way we can nature’s storms? Would we change our minds? Could we actually see something beautiful in the life storms that come our way?

In our spiritual life, just as in nature, high and low pressures create storms. The struggles of negative (evil) against positive (good) create the storms we experience daily. Sometimes these are little more than a shower, others, a raging flood. Like storms in nature, life storms follow specific, predictable storm-tracks that change with the seasons of our lives and they too, strike randomly along those paths. We never know when a storm will strike . . . or do we? Can we become spiritual weather forecasters?

Think about the storms that you have come through in the past. Looking back, you will probably be able to pinpoint events that actually led up to the storm itself. Can you see things you did or did not do, things someone said or did not say? Perhaps if we trained ourselves as well as the weatherman does, we might be able to predict some of our storms. We might even learn the beauty of them.

A spiritual storm or life storm is the one area where we may have some control.  We make the rules of the storm, we can control the intensity, and we can determine the outcome. But we mustn’t forget that the laws of nature still apply. Our natures are what determine how we handle the power of the storms. These storms will either make us or destroy us. Our survival is determined by how well we are prepared.

As a child, I learned to love storms because Mama’s prayer made me comfortable in the storm, even fearless. I knew, with a child’s faith, that we would be safe. I believe that is why I don’t fear storms now. God made the storm and He made me. I love the storm and I respect the power of the storm. I know the storm can destroy me if I am not prepared. I do what is necessary, but I am not afraid in the storm. I can try and escape or I can sit in a quiet place and let the awesome power of God move around me. How much easier it is to stop in the shelter of His wings, study the beauty of his workmanship, and watch the storm pass over. How much easier that is than out running the storm.