The Storm Coming Home

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On our way back home from Rochester and Mayo, on the Interstate, we ran smack dab into a horrendous rainstorm. I mean, the kind of dumping-buckets-can’t-see-out, wipers on high speed kind of rain. We have a weather radar feature on our console, and we could see that the system wasn’t moving – it was stalled over us. Some of the other cars had pulled over onto the shoulder. If we pulled over, we would be there for who knows how long.

I want to preface the rest of what I’m writing by saying that my husband was driving, and he is a very good driver, as well as a common-sense, good-guy-to-have-in-an-emergency kind of husband, for whom I am very grateful.

While I was glad I didn’t have to drive through this mess, sitting in the passenger seat presented its own challenges. I wasn’t in control. I was in the second-guessing seat. “Shouldn’t he slow down just a bit more?” “Maybe we should pull over like these other guys did.” “Shouldn’t he adjust those wipers up a smidge?”

I didn’t voice any of those thoughts. I vocalized agreement with his comments. I prayed.

I thought of Peter, when he walked on the water toward Jesus. As long as he looked at Jesus, he was walking, doing fine. When he looked at the storm, he started sinking.

I took my eyes off the road. I looked at the glove box directly in front of me; sometimes I looked out my side window. When I risked glances up front, out the windshield, into the storm, my blood pressure rose again.

But when I didn’t look at the storm, and thought of Jesus, and my verses, I had perfect peace.

“Thou will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee, because he trusteth in Thee.”

“Fear not, for I am with thee. Be not afraid, for I hold you with My mighty strong arm.”

“What time I am afraid I will trust in Thee.”

“Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong. They are weak, but He is strong.”

“God loves us. Whatever happens is okay with Him.”

I didn’t know if I was saying all my verses correctly, but God’s Word, His presence, was with me. I was at peace. (I had to look it up – Isaiah 41.10 Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.)

Mind you, this continued for about 100 miles, off and on (mostly on). It was white-knuckle driving, down to 35 mph.

One of the times I looked up, there was a big ol’ semi passing us. Up ahead, we could see brake lights of cars pulled off to the right shoulder. Then the semi’s brake lights came on (still in the passing lane, ahead of us). There was a car behind it, and those brake lights came on. The semi started inching over into our lane (he had room, now, and we flicked our lights so he would know that). As we slowly passed, we saw that another car had also pulled onto the shoulder – THE LEFT SHOULDER! The skinny little left shoulder, not wide enough to fit a car. That car was half in the “shoulder,” and half in the passing lane. Stopped. On the Interstate, in a driving rain with maybe 50 yards of visibility. With other cars pulled over onto the other shoulder.

We shook our heads, commented on God’s grace, and thanked God and the truck driver for having quick reflexes and wisdom.

We made it home without mishap. We looked at each other, high-fived, and gave thanks to our Heavenly Father.

Saira

Saira pic in the midst of her

She was born backward in a dark back room

in a blue tarp house in a blue tarp town.

Momma worked sometimes, and drank most times.

Big sister Mara watched little baby Saira,

in the house ‘twixt the tracks and the creek.

Saira watched it all with her intense, wide eyes.

Saira always was a little different like that.

 

Baby Sissy came next, when Saira was five.

Mara did her best to bring ’em up right.

Saira did her part, getting right to work,

quiet like a lynx between the shadows and light.

But Saira was a wanderer, she’d be gone for hours;

brought home her first meal when she was turned six.

Saira always was a little different like that.

 

The three girls took to schoolin’ when they could,

mostly for the lunch they got there.

Momma drank and fidgeted; Mara was the anchor;

Sissy the flirt, and sassy.

Saira coming home brought vittles for their bellies:

berries and meats and strange kind ‘a tuck.

Saira always was a little different like that.

 

She found an old backpack in the woods one day,

brought it home and squirreled it away.

Mara watched it grow with secret things inside,

saw Saira take it with her every time she slipped out;

and she knew Saira was not long for this blue tarp town.

Saira was learning, with no one to teach her.

Saira always was a little different like that.

 

Came the morning she took Mara by the hand,

kissed her and looked her long in the eyes.

A caress of the cheek, and she was gone.

Saira and her backpack melted away into the trees.

Mara, stoic and dry-eyed, watched her go,

and wondered if they’d ever see her again.

Saira always was a little different like that.

 

The years came and went, and Momma died.

Mara buried her and moved to the city.

She left Sissy to fend for herself, pregnant and belligerent;

most likely to turn out just like Momma.

Mara was washing her apartment windows in June

when there was Saira on the other side.

Saira always was a little different like that.

 

She came in for coffee, and Mara noted

the weathered face, the worn hands, the scar,

the animal skin tunic and trousers;

and Saira’s ghost of a smile

that came more easily.

That was about all Mara learned from Saira about Saira, because

Saira always was a little different like that.

 

She gave a slight nod of the head when Mara asked

if she’d stay a while.

She even met Mara’s husband

and listened to him

and listened to Mara

with peace in her eyes.

Saira always was a little different like that.

 

Saira disappeared for hours at a time, and

after three days Mara knew that Saira had to go

back to her wilderness, back to her home.

She gave a civilized good-bye, and then she was gone.

Mara went to wash the bed linens, and saw

that Saira hadn’t used them, must have slept on the floor.

Saira always was a little different like that.

 

And Mara loved her.

3-Days of Quotes: Day 2

Know Jesus Know Peace

My thanks again to Amy Blount for the nomination. You haven’t read her??? Seriously, go and read and be enlightened.

The Quote: “No Jesus, no peace. Know Jesus, know peace.”

My Peace I Give Unto You

Peace is not something we deserve

Or can earn

Peace is not in us,

Not something to learn.

 

In storms of life, through sorrow

And trial,

We gnash our teeth

And cry and revile.

 

We plead and beg

“Oh, change my life!”

So we can have peace

And control the strife.

 

But Peace is a Person

Peace is the fruit

Peace is a gift

Only God can impute.

 

Peace is Jesus, and He

Longs to give

The release, the quiet

And wisdom to live.

 

If you have Jesus, then you

Have peace.

This fruit of the Spirit

That never will cease.

 

I nominate Danielle Marcantel for this 3-Day Quote Challenge. She has some very insightful writings, and I recommend a good sit-down-and-read.

Here are the rules (if you choose to participate);

Thank the person who nominated you.

Post a quote for 3 days and explain why it appeals to you.

Nominate bloggers each day!