Walk now, into whatever comes next, knowing that God,

who is Love, is always, always walking with you.

—Tallu Schyuler Quinn

At 3 a.m., I was jolted out of bed by alarms going off everywhere. Every single phone in the house was sending emergency alert messages that tornadoes were in the area and to run and take shelter. Outside, the city’s tornado sirens were blaring as if the world was coming to an end. The nightly news had mentioned that Nashville could experience some early morning spring storms, but no one was prepared for the shocks of lightening, pounding thunder, torrential rain, and biblical flash flooding. The kids and I in a panic made a mad dash to the basement for safety. For several more days, we experienced intermittent storms and flash flooding. The creek in front of my house swelled into a fast-moving river, its force sadly destroying all three of my bee hives. Schools closed because so many roads were impassable. The question on everyone’s mind was when, if, the sun would ever return.

As much as we try to control the rhythm of our lives, storms pop up out of nowhere, throwing us off balance and testing our inner strength and hope. In the midst of a life “storm,” you ask, “Will I ever experience joy again?”

Although, I do not like it, I have lived long enough to know that the words in Ecclesiastes 3:1 are certainly true: “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” We experience all kinds of “weather” during our lifetimes. One moment, we bask in a “glory” season where life radiates positivity and possibility. You are flourishing. The kids are well, the job is fruitful, and there is peace and contentment. Out of nowhere, the lightning strikes, rain pummels, and your grounding is suddenly shaky. In a very challenging period in my life, I shared with a friend that I felt like I was running through rose bushes. I could see the beauty of the flower, but I couldn’t enjoy it, because I was getting torn up by the thorns. Always the fear is if relief will come. Worse, that I would lose my hope. I now understand that one’s spiritual life is less a progressive experience, where we reach some ultimate achievement. Rather it is a life-long journey of rising to unpredictable weather in our lives. The hope is that we grow in courage and connection with God.

Expect (prepare!) for seasons of dancing and mourning; mending and breaking; weeping and laughing; living and dying. A full and meaningful earthly experience includes both, and often at once, humbling pain and ridiculous joy. Although I do not like the uncomfortable, the uncertain, the despairing seasons, they invite a tenderness with God, reveal my earthly tribe, and gift me with experiences of grace. I have to return again and again to the promise that by and through love God will bring all things together for good (even if I cannot see it at the time). For my part, I must follow the psalmist’s instructions: “be strong, take heart, and wait on the Lord.” (Psalm 27)

I still resist—fight— inclement weather in my life. My husband nicknamed me “sunshine girl” in college for a reason. I embrace days of full sun splendor for myself and those I love. When the dark clouds descend over my life, I panic like anyone does. Defiant and white-knuckled, I try and solve the uncomfortable, the hard. But eventually, tearfully, I surrender. “Dear God, please make a way.”

In the middle of a storm, tornado sirens going off everywhere, and fear and loss ruling our days, our first instinct is to hide, isolate, escape, close down. But try to do the opposite. Bring people that you love and trust down to “the basement” with you to weather the storm. Know that you do not have to face the storms alone. As Jesus instructed, seek quiet places to bear your vulnerable heart to God. Take hold of God’s hand and do not let go. I pray for rainbows. Again and again, I pray for rainbows. One day, the storms will pass. The sun will return. I believe God’s promise.

I would like to thank my new friend Frader for introducing me to this new anthem of hope by Jamie MacDonald!