The Storm

I see the storm coming again. The first tornado in 2002 was the worst. It hit our house, it hit our relative’s house, it hit the school, it hit me and it hit my life. The second tornado came in 2003, about 6 months or a year later. Well, some reparation work has been done before that… but the thin fibers of confidence, trust and security got thrown off by conflicting decisions and perceptions as we met that tornado. The second storm was not as bad as the first one, but it cut deep. Real deep. Some of my fears and perceptions were reinforced... though they could be wrong.

Now, the third storm has been gently brewing, brewing, brewing. It’s gathering up speed. I see the stir of the phone lines, the distinctive voice patterns and girly smiles that try so hard to mask all the clues and yet point to the eye of the storm. It’s coming. Past experiences tell me that the breeze I feel is forewarning me of a third tornado. I do not know how to react. I want to ignore the breeze. I want to pretend that nothing’s going on. But I know that the greater pretense I put on, the harder the storm will hit. Deep inside, a very small whisper says that the breeze may be the harbinger of a joyous occasion. Father, teach me how to handle the storm, not by experience, but by love.