The same God who crafted creation is at work in my life today.
“There’s a storm coming,” 13-year old Samuel says. We’re in our homeschool classroom, and he’s bent over geometry.
The room has grown darker. The air moving through the windows has changed.
Sam looks up. Something is shining his eyes. “Let’s go outside,” he says. “Let’s sit in the swing and watch the storm roll in.”
The other two boys move from their desks and stand in the window. When they turn around, their smiles pull my heart. “Can we?” they ask.
I look at a stack of books. A full day of lessons. And an evening that holds three different practices for sports if the weather clears. There’s a lot to do and little time. But I give in to their pleas. A moment later, we’re crunched on the swing in the yard. The sky is bruising. Blue gives way to grey. But before I know it, the three boys have moved to the deck. They’re sprawled on their backs.
“Come over, Mom?” they ask.
I join my sons. The deck holds heat from the sun, and it seeps into our shoulders. The sky moves above us. It’s dark. Broody. A stain of clouds scrolls past. I wonder for a moment if we look silly. Stretched on our backs. Watching the sky. But suddenly I don’t care because the wind picks up. Leaves from tall trees catch in currents, and they twist and turn and twirl to the ground.
And I’m moved by the power and glory of God.
The same God who calls the winds and colors the sky is personal and powerful in my life.
For a moment, I’m stilled. This beautiful truth fills me. The Father loved me so much that He sent His Son. His Son removed my sin and gave me life. And the Lord is active and present in my every circumstance. Every trial. Every heartache. He knows the ins and outs and beginnings and ends. His perspective is complete and all-knowing, and He holds me in the center of His hand.
Life struggles, the ones I hold in my heart and press through in my days, lose power in His presence.
And my soul is quiet.
I look to my boys. Their sweet profiles, the wonder on their faces, let me know they’re seeing this glory, too.
We stay that way until raindrops, at first heavy and slow, plink and patter on the deck. By the time we stand and scramble, it’s raining hard. When we reach the patio door, we’re soaked.
We’re changed, too.
Sometimes we need to be still and rest in His glory.