The wind whispers ... “Go inside.” The wind howls, “Go inside!” The Wind of God beckons, “Go ... inside.”
Out of the southwest, the wind swirled. Strange. Normally, it blows from the west-northwest. She kept looking up to the sky, turning in counterclockwise circles. “Momma, is it going to storm?”
The air — bright and warm — and the sky — blue and full of light — gave no appearance of a storm. But that wind ... that wind ... grew stronger, greater. She had never witnessed an eddy of leaves before. Not that she recalled, anyway.
A small funnel appeared, like the bathtub drain after her father replaced the pipe. “Momma, it’s a tornado!” as she snatched a bath toy away from the powerful force.
She turned around trying to discern from whence it came. “Hurry. Let’s go inside.” Let’s go inside. Her words become a litany.
One: The wind whispers ...
All: “Go inside.”
One: The wind howls.
All: “Go inside!”
One: The Wind of God beckons.
All: “Go ... inside.”
We weather a storm, in some measure, by our approach to it. Face it. Run from it. Prepare for it. Batting down the hatches. Go inside ... to endure it, to wait it out, to survive it, to watch its fury, to listen to its ebbs and flows, to be in awe of it. Give thanks for it ... what it reveals.
These coming weeks are a storm unlike any we have seen in our lifetime. It’s time not to retreat in fear but to seek inwardly for awareness otherwise unrevealed.
Go inside. Go inside not to hide but to await. Go inside not to shudder in fear but to become quiet to hear and to see what is becoming. Go inside and become a well of strength for those who feel battered and torn by the Storm that assails them, be it disease, addiction, poverty, exhaustion. Go inside and be ready to return.
One day, we will be able to declare the Storm is over. The Wind will breathe afresh and renew us, rejuvenating the face of the earth.