Thursday, August 1, 2013

When the Storms Rage...

As I was dozing off to sleep at 10:40 last night, thunder resonated outside my window and lightning sent off five second shadows. Then the power flashed and was dead. A minute later I heard the patter of feet and four little faces showed up at my door. "Bria can we sleep with you? It's scary outside and we can't sleep without lights." My room is the first stop in the dark, with Mom and Dad being upstairs. My first instinct was frustration. I inwardly huffed, knowing that I wouldn't get much sleep with four children in my bed and floor. Then as I groped for a flashlight, something occurred to me. Being the 'big' person in the basement, those precious faces trusted me to comfort them in their fear.

They looked at me as the strong one, the one to tell them it will be alright, it's just a storm. When in fact I'm not strong. I fail so many times at being strong. Do they even know that I myself am scared of the storms? That I still have fear from that fateful tornado two years ago? That the only times I can gather the strength to be strong is when others think me as strong? But I discovered I am the strongest when others need me to be strong, yet when my strength is no longer needed, it is harder to find strength for myself.

We found a little toy flashlight that bounced stars off the ceiling, pallets were made, the four year old snuggled as close to me as she could get in bed, her head tucked under my chin, arms constricting around me. The little boy's voice softly asking "Is it going away? Will the lights be back soon?" I smile as I remember doing the same thing in my parent's room as a child.

 I am so grateful I can run to God and be enveloped by His strength in my weakness.

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