Wrestling Peace

White caps churn
Crash, crash, crash

The wind roars
wrestling peace

Soothing sand
strikes my skin

Peaceful palms
bend in fright

Dreary clouds
stifle light

Heaven sheds
raging tears

Fear; power
Defeat calm

Yet beauty
in the midst


Ever since I returned home from the beach a couple of weeks ago, the scene of the tropical storm, Hermine, striking the coast has been replaying in my mind. Our cozy oceanfront condo provided a front-row seat to the action. As the waves rose and wind howled in the night, I realized that God was teaching me an important lesson about himself through the storm.

The rain began steadily, then, in an instant, became an ocean bearing down on earth. We drove through rising waters, refusing fear and embracing adventure. Then, surrounded by the safety of shelter, grilled cheese, and laughter, we watched nature’s narrative unfold. When the sun stole a glance and while the rain regathered its strength, we ran into the sand. The foaming waves kissed our toes as wind tried to tackle us. We laughed, ran, and admired the glory and power in the hand holding the storm. Finally, with the rustling sound of palm leaves and angry cry of the ocean, we closed our eyes.

Morning arrived, calm and quiet. The sun crept above the ocean horizon with hints of jealous clouds lingering. Pastels conquered gloom. The violent waves now rested. Evidence of the battle lay in seashells, generously sprinkling the shoreline. I ran, stopping every few steps to admire the gorgeous peace. While I ran in awe, God whispered “I am faithful.”

The storm may rage, but even then His glorious power will be displayed. Morning will come, promising a sunrise and seashells. The wind, rain, and frightening waves will subside, replaced by a quieter display of power. Whether it’s in the midst of the eye of a tropical storm, or in the grace of a sunrise, He is faithful.

I have realized that many days feel a lot like that storm. There are deadlines to reach, people to please, and goals to meet; the rain of anger and stress pour, drenching my curled hair. The wind shouts lies and fear swells like waves. But now I realize that there is always the promise of tomorrow. Instead of  hiding inside, I can run onto the stormy beach, dip my toes into the billowing waves, and race against the wind while resting in the truth that He is faithful. The storm will subside, I will open my eyes to a gorgeous sunrise, and I will run in the peace, gathering the faithful reminders of seashells.






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