{Living Through the Storm of Strength}
Over the past few years, I have had the
privilege to visit a variety of a few different countries. One
country in particular, I met a young girl. As I was talking to her,
her story came out as a beautiful illustration of how God takes us
through seemingly extremely hard things, only to grow and shape us
for the rest of our journey on earth... It is up to us, in those
times of trouble and trial, weather we take that experience and
change for the better or for the worse. We have the choice to come
out of that storm bitter or braver, which, as you can guess, will
effect the course of the rest of our lives.
Its been quite a while since I talked
to this young girl and over the course of months her story kept
coming back to me, over and over... but not in the way she told
me.... In more of a poetic, general way. Below I attempted to write
from her perspective, of how she felt while going through this life
changing time...
Also, among the course of the last few
years, I have made friendships with a few specific people who seem to
always have encouragement and debates ready on hand... willing to
discuss and challenge thoughts and trials... which I highly admire
and appreciate. So, part of my inspiration for, 'Living Through The
Storm of Strength' would be divvied out and given to them.
I hope 'Living Through The Storm of
Strength' can be an encouragement and thought provoking read, as you
enter into the eyes and being of a young, native girl, tossed and
torn between the confusion this life has to offer when you stand
alone without God, and the beauty and strength that can come from
choosing to live through the storm and come out changed in a healthy,
ready to serve way, rather than a stone heart and bitter life...
{rope swinging through the beautiful Jamaican Rain Forest on one of my later ''Outta Country'' experiences}
Living
Through the Storm of Strength
Written by
Helen Eleanor
Calm me. Those waves, they take all I
have and diminished all I've ever known. Those clouds, they shade my
thoughts and make me feel dull to the idea of creativity... Every
drop of rain is wasted once it hits the drought in my heart... My
eyes want to feel again, a river of life, but the tears are trapped
behind walls built of pride and guilt. Behind layers of hate and
anguish. The winds that blow should make me feel alive, but I feel no
remorse... I see the storm. I feel its effects as it sways past me.
My legs are planted firm, a sign of my stubborn heart, far from
relinquishing its right to run free. My eyes, once tightly closed,
not are open to the storm raging into and past this being, its like a
hurricane of fury mixed with this tornado, ripping everything apart
with in view. It has no shame.. it is not afraid. It will stop at
nothing, to blaze on by, ruining and devastating everything in its
path... I see it. Every bit of it. Though I cannot hear its screaming
tones of want and hate, I know its there. Though I cannot feel its
sharp blows to the head and heart, I feel its effects. Though I stand
on a mountain, I am still thrust to the bottom of the sea, drowning in
despair. Shocking waves of exempt and terror fill my very being, I
see it all at once. The undertow pulled me deeper in than I've ever
been before. I begin to hear, so clearly.. not wanting to acknowledge
the sound, but its there. I listen more and more, I hear my own
voice... trying desperately to distinguish the difference between my voice and the storm itself. I see my feet, steadfast and unmoved... I am not
even fighting to escape. The storm is captivating... its fury is
relaxing. Its confidence is undeniable. The voice grows stronger and
stronger... I cannot move. My heart wants to leave, but my being wont
let it... My heart cant handle the voice. The words, the sound of
pain, the sound of fear of hatred and worthless demise. The words my
mind spoke, but never left my lips... the secrets tied to my heart
far beneath the surface... Its to much. Silence. Not stillness, just
silence. Its worse than the voice. I know what the voice is saying, I
know what thoughts are being yelled, but I cant hear it anymore. The
storm doesn't back down, in fact, it grows worse... my self sinks to
the ground, I feel my knees hit the thorny ground... its pain. That's
what I first felt. Not just the effects....but actual feeling. Pain.
So lovely. So strong. So different from the silent numb storm
crashing around me... I cant anymore hear...just feel. Its bitter,
but its there. Slowly it turned from grimacing pain into
suffocating fear, and then hate... the hate. Oh, to feel hate, its
hurts worse than pain, worse than fear.. it kills everything inside
of you... makes you disappear into something you never knew to be
true, it eats your inner being, waiting to release its sounds on the
world. Then it came. The hate broke, it hurt, it seared like the
lava of stone around me... but it shattered. Shattered, into shards
of truth and it lied upon the ground, dissolving the thorns and
barricading the storm. My lifeless being lay limp, tortured, broke.
That's what I felt. Brokenness. The storm ceased. Its gray skies
still lingered above me,its dry ground around me. I couldn't see. I
couldn't feel. I couldn't hear. I couldn't breathe. My life had been
taken by something bigger, something stronger. One drop. Of patience,
of sorrow, of justice, or redemption, of forgiveness. One drop fell
from the darkening sky. I felt my cracked skin absorb in lust, the
only thing I felt. One drop. One turned into two, two into twelve,
soon I felt the pelting rain wash over my damaged body, a soft breeze
blew me onto my back, as I lay facing the sky, feeling the stinging
water hydrait my pitiful life. Then I saw. my eyes opened and I saw
waves of forgiveness forming to the right. My heart relapsed to fear
of the storm, but soon was calmed. I knew this one would be
different... it had to be. Waves of grace, or love, or tenderness
swarmed my being, lifting me from the demised ground of once thorns,
and shards... I floated helplessly. I could feel. I could see. Silent
whispers poured into my heart. Promises of patience. Promises of
love. Promises of freedom. I could hear, faintly, but surly. I
floated for miles.... unable to move... watching the rain flood my
soul and bring healing to every wounded ache in its midst. I landed
on a shore... the waters disappeared, as I lay there, my heart
breathed in, and my lungs sighed... I found strength, and stood. I
could breathe. I was lost, unsure, I was afraid for I had never known
this place before.. I had never experienced such peace. Then He
spoke. It wasn't my own screaming voice that my heart hid from... it
wasn't my ruined thoughts of the winds loud blows. It was still, it
was calm like a whisp of air escaping from the sea... crisp. Kind.
Firm. Words of reassurance washed through me... bringing new life and
freedom from the ruins the storm had created. I experienced for the
first time a clean and washed heart as I fell into my Saviors arms.
He told me of great things I was to accomplish, and of small things I
was to be faithful in. He spoke softly of the tempest-tossed winds
that would try to captivate me once again, and the importance of
relying and staying faithful to rely and trust in Him. His voice
continued to speak... I felt His arms captivating every part of
me...but just like a swirl of wind, I could no longer see Him. His
words whispered to me to not give up, but press onward in all life's trials I would come upon. I remembered the drought and the piercing waves... i remembered the aching pain of the storm as i stood upon firm land once again. Heavily my foot lifted as I began to walk
upon the same ground my being had once given up on, only this time, I knew I would not fall
easily... and even if the storm came, I knew He had made me stronger.
"Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
29
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
30
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
31
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint."
{Isaiah 40:28-31 NIV}
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