I was awakened when it was yet dark out, a wailing wind luring me from bed to the window. Peering out, I watched rain lashing viciously at Saint Patrick the statue, a resolute sentinel guarding our home against the storm. Back into bed I crawled, safe and warm.
Later, I awoke to a blue sky tufted with cotton, to green grass caked with rain-turned-snow. No wind. Saint Patrick standing strong as ever.
Simply, to be that child who retreats to a quiet place and waits—this is all God asks when the world is in tumult around us. Be quiet and wait. Do not concern yourself with the storm. And yet, how often do we dash out into the thunder and lightning and rail at the sky to be still, to restore to us the blue and the breeze? And what do we accomplish but to soak ourselves to the core and feel ourselves standing alone and vulnerable before power we cannot control? Engulfed by darkness, we cannot fathom the light—nor the purpose of the storm.
But if we retreat, if we wait, closing the eyes of our soul, we will soon awake to find the sky bluer than it ever seemed, the grass greener, the breeze softer. While we sleep, the world is renewed. For over that which we cannot control, God is Lord and Master.