In the Eye of the Storm

    

    She was just a little girl riding in the back of her grandmother’s old car. The sky had grown dark like the night that humid afternoon as the wind picked up. On the road, her little face pressed against the window watching as the storm blew rain and debris through the air. All of a sudden everything got quiet, mysteriously quiet as the old muffler buzzed along. The light outside her window looked green and oppressive in the stillness.

 “Grandma why is it so quiet?” She asked.

    But her grandma just sped up faster as she looked in the rearview mirror. When they finally made it into town, they parked, but Grandma wouldn’t get out. She sat looking into the distance gripping the stirring wheel, saying over and over again, “Jesus, eye. Jesus, eye.” The little girl didn’t understand as she looked at her grandmother sitting in a catatonic state. She didn’t understand that they had just driven through the eye of a tornado and came out alive, and not only alive but untouched.

     My friend shared this story today in the break room as I was warming up my hot pocket. Her description was so clear it was like the storm had blown in yesterday. I felt as if I was sitting next to her grandmother in the front seat with the lap seat belt buckled around my waist. I felt curious because I have never been in the eye of such a furious thing as the Midwestern tornado.

    I do remember hearing the tornado siren go off in the summer when I was eight. I grabbed three yogurts and headed downstairs to the little creepy closet under the stairs. There I huddled with my little brother Jon. I was frightened as mom reassured me that everything would be all right. Sure enough, the storm blew over and I didn’t get taken away to the land of Oz. My adventure ended in five short minutes  when the sirens stopped. Disappointed I climbed the basement stairs with my half-consumed strawberry yogurt.

   Later in my teens, I gathered with friends to watch “Twister” the storm thriller about people that actually live to chase storms. Mesmerized I watched as the tornado ripped through the film. It was the closest I had ever been to the eye of the storm.

    I am not sure why I have a desire to inch so close to natural disaster just to get a glimpse of that powerful wild eye of nature as it unleashes its fury on earth. In such moments I guess I feel like something bigger is in control. No matter what plans I have I put them aside for a moment to look up at the storm, to behold it’s raw power.

   Tonight in the cold drizzling rain my van splashed through inky black streets on its way to the bank. The heater was blowing in warmth as the song came on the radio. “The eye of the storm,” by Ryan Stevenson came flooding through my little van speakers. The words “In the eye of the storm You remain in control…Your love surrounds me in the eye of the storm…” captured my attention.

    God’s protective arms surrounded that little old car as it drove in the middle of the raging tornado so many years ago. My grown-up friend lived to tell the story. It was only one of many storms that would rage over her young life. I have heard much of her story, a tale of much heart ache and pain, but God brought her through it all. His hand led her to a place of faith, healing, and restoration. She knows more than anyone that God’s love surrounds us even when we don’t see him. Even when we are so caught up in the disaster that all we can talk about is the mess. His love still surrounds us in the eye of the storm.

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