Come Away...

Storm Chaser Kid

There was a storm last night. Our fried telephone, garage door opener, internet connection, box fan, Xbox and printer are living (or should I say dead) proof that the lightning was fierce. And right when it all began, my mother and I were swimming in Lake Michigan.

We had attempted to ignore the thunder, but after the first lightning bolt struck we decided that it might be a good idea to get out of the water. We headed up to a bench on the bluff to eat PB&J (it's a tradition) and watch the storm roll in.

I noticed a camera set up on a tripod at the edge of the bluff. It pointed toward the lighthouse in anticipation of the coming storm. A young man in his late teens was parked in front of us, his Jeep sporting a license plate that stood for "South Haven storm chaser."

He was serious business.

Or at least he felt like he was.

A weather radio was attached to his car, and through the static we listened to the dull voices of weathermen forcasting impending doom while we calmly ate our sandwiches and watched the sky light up with bolts. My mother asked him questions like, "What do you do when it starts to rain?"

"Oh, my camera gets wet. It's sealed," he replied confidently. He even showed us some of the bolts that he had captured during last week's storm.

When the radio sounded the thunderstorm warning alert, we decided to hightail it back home. Weather boy, however, laid back in the grass and waited for the action to begin.

Ten minutes later we drove back by. Even the confident storm chaser had decided to bring his camera into his car after the seventy mile-per-hour winds, torrential downpour and constant flashes of lightning began.

This morning I was laughing to myself as I remembered his "cool as a cucumber" attitude about what was about to happen. Yes, his camera may have been sealed, but I don't think he was prepared to keep it from blowing off of the bluff and down to the beach below.

My laughter stopped when I realized that storm chaser kid and I have a lot in common. I pride myself in the fact that I'm not really afraid of anything, yet when something treacherous heads my way, I tend to worry constantly. Even when I have no doubt that I'm prepared to take anything, somehow I always seem to crumble under the weight of the world.

This is not, however, a hopeless business. Paul puts it this way in 2 Corinthians 12:9-

"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."

When I am at my worst is when Jesus can prove Himself to be everything that He has promised to be. This is all about Him anyway, right? If I think that I, replete with every kind of weakness, am strong enough to face this world and everything that comes my way on my own, I am in for a very rude awakening.

Oh, but to experience the strength that comes when we come to the end of ourselves and allow His sufficient grace to abound to us. Don't try to face the storm in your own strength, my friend. Life is too short not to grab a hold of His.

The "Duck"

I just finished a five hour stint with a family that I've been watching a few days each week this summer. While I did consider going to bed, since it will only be nine hours until I'm walking through their door once again, I decided to share a story with you instead.

The three year-old had just been tucked into bed when he emerged with a look on his face that said, "There is a matter on my mind of utmost importance."

"I need my duck," he said simply. The "duck," as he affectionately calls it, is his two-legged, stringy-haired platypus, and I was very familiar with it, as it was my saving grace one day when he had a half-hour weeping fest.

But that is a different God story for a different time.

We started a search for the duck which began in his bed and gradually moved to every other room in the house.

"You know, Lauren, you could pray that I would help you find the duck. What a great lesson it would be for the kids!" Jesus said.

I thought to myself that Jesus had bigger fish to fry (just like I usually do) and continued the search.

After we returned to the little boy's bedroom, I reluctantly tried to explain to him that sometimes we have to go to sleep without our ducks.

"But I need my duck."

He looked at me with his dark chocolate brown eyes and my heart melted.

After an inward sigh and roll of the eyes and a quick, "This had better work!" to God, I said, "Why don't we pray and ask God to help us find the duck!"

Five minutes later, when we had resolved the issue that, yes, Jesus can indeed talk to us and no, Santa would be of no help in this situation, I prayed a quick prayer.

"Tell Him that the duck has black eyes and white fur!" the five year-old chimed in after my amen.

I added those details just to make sure that He understood who we were looking for.

When Duck magically emerged about two minutes later, (he had been wrapped tightly under the covers in the bed and yes, I do believe that God who helped me find him,) the three year-old said a quick prayer of thanks.    

"Thank you, God, for this food." Here he paused, trying to remember what else he needed to say to God. Then he remembered. "I have my duck back!"

I'll bet God cared more about us finding that two-legged, stringy-haired platypus than I did.