“Very often a change of self is needed more than a change of scene.” — Arthur Christopher Benson, British Author
I have lived long enough to know something about storms – ‘you are either just getting out of storm, in a storm, or walking into one’. I tried looking for the good in the storm and wrote a piece, “The Wind and the Rain.” I would like to share with you.
I love the wind. I love the wind making music in the trees like butterfly whispering to her friends saying, “There are flowers everywhere. Come – this is our day!” I love the sound of the waves bellowing against the rocks across the sea rippling to wash the shores. I love the sound of tin roofs clapping in the wind in Common Time because one of the nails is loose. I love the wind moving the clouds high in the sky making images – a dog chasing a boy. I love the wind brushing against my skin in the heat of the day.
I love water. Water in many forms: liquid, gas, and ice. I love the sound of raindrops tapping on rooftops. Rivers overflowing into waterfalls over the rocks resonating freely over the mountains like silver glass over the green. The stillness of the land in the first snowfall is something to behold in the cold country. I love the sound of ice cubes dancing in a glass of water as if winking at me. The bubbling fountains in the woods sustaining life and the wells I knew as a child. The river flows down and meets another river from the east. Two rivers collide violently into fizz, sparking in the air as if at war; slowly find peace and flow harmoniously as one ‘river’ into streams and brooks on their way to the sea.
The sound of rushing water like the voice of God as John described is something to think about.
How arrogant am I to question life, not going my way. It is in the midst of the storm, I can find stillness because “I know the Master of the Wind, the Maker of the Rain.” Like Job, I say to my LORD, “I lay my hand over my mouth. Once I have spoken, but I will not answer. Yes, twice, but I will proceed no further.”
The wind and the rain humble me for I do not know where the wind comes and where it’s going. The rain has been recycling through the ages ascending to the heavens as gas and return clean and fresh as liquid to nourish the earth.
I need to change my views when times are hard – when it rains as if the sky is falling, and the wind is furiously raging like madcap outside tearing things on its way. The water comes to wash the dust and grime I have picked up on the journey. The wind awakens my spirit to change my cours . Life is dynamic—not static. It is ever moving forward!
Why do we fear change?