The Music Before the Storm

Hurricane Isaac is headed our way. Of course, we are far inland, so by the time he arrives he will no longer be a hurricane, only a tropical depression.  The prediction is for severe thunderstorms with up to 10 inches of rain, and powerful winds. Perhaps tornadoes. All this onto a drought-ridden land that has not had more than a few drops of rain since sometime in April.

The landscape is littered with fallen leaves, as the trees have gone dormant to save their own lives. The ground is cracked and dry, and the sun continues to beat down relentlessly day after day.

I have a small patch of St. Augustine grass in my front yard, lovingly transplanted there by hand from my parents’ yard, many years ago. Each time I would visit them, I would gather up the sprigs that grew across their driveway and sidewalk, bringing them home and carefully planting them into my bare yard. Now, years later, it is lush and green; I have fought hard to keep it alive through this drought.

Literally inches away, the remainder of the yard is a desert. My beloved woods are no longer thick and green; the underbrush is parched and brittle, and the cats no longer seek out respite there during the heat of the day. This has been a hard time for all of us.

And now there are storms approaching, promising the long-awaited rain, but in overabundance. As I walked Maggie in the humid darkness this morning, the clouds had already begun to move in from the south; the atmosphere holds its breath and waits.

I have done all I can do. I have taken down the patio umbrella and tucked it away. The charcoal grill has been snuggled against the side of the house, and my wheelbarrow turned upside down on the back deck. I have prayed for protection and provision over my family, my home, my state, and I trust the One Who controls the wind and the rain. I am not worried or anxious.

I will be working this afternoon when the storm arrives, caring for sweet Baby Lydia. She is thriving, growing and changing each day. She can roll over now, and has discovered her feet. She laughs aloud at EVERYTHING, and caring for her is an absolute delight. I am teaching her baby sign language now, to help bridge the gap between the time when she knows what she wants, and the time she can verbalize it. Although she won’t be physically able to sign back to me for a few more months, she watches me intently and I know she is processing what I am doing.

My own precious grandbaby and her mama are doing well. At Summer’s OB appointment last week, her doctor told her she was 85% sure that baby is a girl; we will know for certain next month. Meanwhile, her due date is March 3, and all is well. I pray daily for this yet-to-be-born child. I speak God’s blessings over her, and pray that she will grow into a mighty woman of God, someone that will make a difference in this world. For now, her name is Emmarie which means "to sharpen." May she grow into a powerful warrior for the Kingdom, someone who will sharpen others and encourage them to be all they can be.

And so, this is where I am; just loving my life and enjoying all that has come my way. I am waiting for the storm, but I’m not afraid. I have learned that sometimes God calms the storm, and sometimes He allows the storm to rage and just calms His child.

He is the God Who cares about His creation, down to even the tiniest hummingbird, and I know He cares for me.  I am safe in His mighty hands.