Lots of my friends have tattoos.  Sometimes they ask me if I’m ever going to get one.  I always say that it would need to be something that has significant meaning to me.  Storms are one of those things, but I can’t imagine being satisfied with a little storm on my bicep.  It would have to be huge and intimidating to fit the image I have of a decent storm.

Life has been stormy around here lately. When you’re in the middle of it, you wonder if it’s going to destroy you, don’t you? I was water skiing one time as a boy and my mom was driving the boat.  A storm blew in, and we were hustling back to our dock/lodging.  I was huddled down on my seat under a towel when lightning struck the water somewhere  nearby. I remember it being the loudest sound I had ever heard.  I was fully expecting electricity to light us up and throw us onto the shore. Maybe that’s when I really learned to pray! But we made it back safely, and soon the storm blew over.

During Push (our pre-service prayer time) on Sunday, one of the men reported something he saw. He explained that storms around here (GA) usually hug the ground, and all you can see in the midst of the storm is more storm.  But he had been places (Texas) where he would see the storm rise up, and when you looked toward the horizon, you could see light on the other side. That’s what he saw; a dark storm, but  when you looked toward the horizon, you could see light on the other side of the storm. (click on picture above). As a former farmer from West Texas, I know that picture.  We always knew that a storm wasn’t terribly intense when you could see daylight on the other side.

What he saw has been a great source of encouragement to me. The longer I walk this life out, the more confidence I have in our God who loves to rescue, grow, discipline, teach, stretch and shape.  And he regularly uses storms to do it. Learning his ways builds trust in him – read faith. Maybe even more than when he makes life easy, storms followed by rescue/deliverance build faith. Storms blow in, and you start looking around for how he’s going to rescue you this time. For him to give us a picture of hope and light on the other side of this storm is quite comforting.

Embrace?

Anywho, Griffin Billings, the three year old recently diagnosed with leukemia at our church, had a day honoring him this past weekend. Griffin Day! A 5k was run, songs were sung, raffles were drawn and smiles were had.

In its aftermath I’ve learned that I had a couple failures on that day:

First, I failed to take the day slower… focusing on the facts and the people. Griffin is certainly sick, but folks showed up in droves to run, to laugh, to listen, to support.

Second, I failed to appreciate God’s grace… focusing on the realities of God’s goodness instead of the intensity of Griffin’s sickness. Sure, Griffin is sick, but allowing my exuberance on his day to be tempered by his condition missed the point of the day itself. I failed to celebrate as hard as I wanted.

Third, I now frequently fail to realize that there is no formula for these things. Griffin is sick. Two things have the power to heal him. One is possible – medicine. The other is perfect but can be mysterious – God.

What I won’t fail today is thanking God for that day. For Griffin’s Day. It was precious. Sweet. A hopefully positive memory that floats on top of the difficulty of the past few months for the Billings family.

*Last four photos courtesy of Lauren Ashlee O’Brian.

Images contributed by Lauren Ashlee O’Brian.  Special thanks to Jennifer Bailey and Noelle Griggs for their design concepts and work.