Sometimes I don’t know what God is doing. I was talking with Paul the other night and recalled with him that I would have never imagined in a hundred years that I would ever find myself doing what I am doing. Before we even got married I had told him that I didn’t want to be a stay-at-home mom. Now, here I am, a mother of FOUR… and I am not only staying at home, but I am attempting to HOMESCHOOL? What happened!?!? I had rather lofty goals completely unrelated to my current calling. Now I find myself walking around the house constantly saying, “Something smells…”
God has done a lot to get me here and has been transforming me in all kinds of ways over all those years. I am thankful that He continues to work on me, creating this person who at times I don’t even recognize in the mirror… but I am kind of growing to like her. I thank God, too, that what God wants me to look like is different than His plans and desires for everyone else. He loves us individually and doesn’t want a cookie-cutter people. He is a God of variety and creativity. I like that.
The other night I sat outside and waited for a thunderstorm to roll in. It wasn’t the first time I’ve had the pleasure of sitting still and experiencing the sudden change in weather, yet each time I am always amazed. Like so many times before, the air was thick and still. The lightening could be seen across the horizon in the dark and rolling thunderclouds. With each lightening strike the ominous clouds would glow for a split second, revealing their massive size. The trees stood still in silence…waiting. There was an anxiousness in the calm air as the birds seemed to frantically prepare for the rain. I felt my own heart start to pound a little faster…something was about to happen and all creation seemed to know it.
FIrst I heard the faint rustling of leaves. The birds started to scatter. The cat backed up from the edge of the porch. Then I felt the cool breeze across my face. The tension of the air was suddenly released and all that pent up energy was dispersed through the street. Then I saw it. The clouds filled up the whole sky above me and what was once on the horizon was now towering over me. The huge thunder heads were swirling while brewing up a firestorm of light within. Then I could even smell the musk of dirt and rain being mixed together by the beginning drops and twisting wind.
I had the thought: “Who the heck am I, compared to this storm?” To think what power was contained in this storm above me- all the molecules of water collecting up there, all the electricity generated in the atmosphere, to eventually rush down on me, or electrocute me! To think how small I was, sitting there under the covering of my little porch compared to those huge powerful dark clouds. To think what that storm looked like from outer-space… like a few fluffy clouds on the dimly lit back-side of the Earth. Who am I? More like…”Who do you think you are, Angie?”
I may be small, insignificant, and scared compared to the vastness of the storm, but when I think about who set that storm into motion, I know that my value is not limited to just that. God, who set the Earth into motion long before I was even a mere thought, is an all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving god. He has the power to strike me down with a lighting bolt on my front porch. But He doesn’t. He has deep storehouses of mercy and everlasting love… for little ‘ol me.
It is this same God who I trust with my porch safety, that I can trust with the hearts of my children, my finances, my marriage, my stress, my laundry even. If He is that big, and I am that small, and He loves me…wow. I have no reason to question His faithfulness and providence, or His plan.
As the thunder rolled, both Gideon and Helen crawled out of their beds at different times, finding me on the porch. They both wanted the thunder to stop. They both wanted me to pray for them, asking God to quiet the storm and cease the rain. I could understand why. The whole house shook in fear and with trembling.
But after I walked them back to their perspective rooms and began to tuck them in and pray over them, I thanked God for the rain. I asked that it continue, not cease. We desperately need rain, after all. I prayed that the noise and the fear cease, that His protection and provision remain, and that our trust in Him grow.
It made me think about all the seasons of my life when I have prayed for the thunderstorm to cease, not taking into account the rain that was falling and quenching my thirsty heart and soul. It made me think of all the times that I have let fear and the noise of this world mask the power and provision of the Lord.
As we learn our rhythms and flow of family rehab, I pray that I be reminded amidst the noise and anxiety-filled thick air, that God has something in store for us that we desperately need. It will satisfy and quench like nothing else. The anticipation of what is coming is almost unbearably thick. What He has in store is roaring in the distance and gaining momentum.
I pray that I can sit still long enough to listen for the signs of it coming. I pray that I can close my eyes long enough to feel the atmosphere around me change and feel God blow across my heart. I pray that I can see it in the faces of my children and spouse, in big ways, and seemingly insignificant ways. I pray that I am so in tune with what God is doing that I can even smell it.