Thunderstorms

She lives in fear. An irrational fear. A fear with chains bound tight. A fear so powerful that the very sight of a cloud sends her into a downward spiral. A slow downward spiral into the irrational. 

I watch the fear build in her eyes. The awkward fidgeting of her body. I feel the heat of her skin rise. Soon the questions begin... Will they go away? Will it rain? Will it thunder? Will the power go out? Is it far away? I try to comfort her with words, but they fall short, not even heard. The fear blocks them and tightens its grip. Her tiny body wrought with fear of the impending storm. It owns her now.

The battle begins. I try desperately to bring her back. Her eyes are glassy as she gazes into the distance. I hold her, plead with her…  look at me… at my eyes… listen to my words. She is too far gone. Her tiny fingers are plugging her ears and covering her eyes. She cries out la la la la la as loud as she can, to calm herself, to mask the sounds ringing in her ears. Her body hot and sweaty, writhing with fear. Trembling as she feels every vibration. The fear is too strong to fight with my own strength. I fight back the tears as I hold her, rock her. Defeated.   

Defeated, but not surrendered. I cry out to my God to take this fear, this bondage from her, I demand Him to free her little body. Does He not see she is so tiny? I beg for Him to end this storm, I know He is able. She does not know how to fight! She needs someone to fight for her!  My heart is pounding, and I feel the anger rise. Do You not hear me? She is my child. She should be carefree, without fear, without strongholds! She is too young I tell Him! Give her a life. Give her freedom. 

In a heap, I beg for forgiveness. Forgiveness for the anger, the accusations and demands… He hushes me, comforts me. He knows my pain. He watched His Son tortured and nailed to a cross. He watched Him suffer and die. He knows the anguish. He reminds me of the times He has answered my cries and impeded the storms that raged around us. He reminds me what we teach her in the quiet she uses in the storm. That she cries out to Him to help her fear and stop the storms. She prays scripture. She turns to Him. She trusts Him. She leans on Him. She has faith. He has a plan and He loves her. As I peer through the darkness, I realize this is not my battle, it is hers. It is for me to pray and equip and send her out, fully trusting God.    

I watch her battle play out. Her world in chaos with the sounds of wind tearing at the trees. The thunder, lightening, rain pounding. The flicker of lights that slowly submit to the darkness, the silence that follows. I watch her victories unfold as she fights through the fear. From under her blanket held tightly by her daddy's arms, suspended by the Father, between her cries of fear, there are moments of strength. Her voice strong and confident if only for a moment. His strength flowing through her as she walks into the darkness of another room, flashlight in hand. I watch Him stretch her. Mold her. Love her. I see the triumph in her her eyes and hear it in her voice. Her battle has ended, the victory is hers to claim. 

And I praise Him…

by His grace alone, 

Shelly

For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life.

John 3:16 KJV

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

II Timothy 1:7