a willingness to surrender

Sometimes things happen that aren't a result of our weakness or inabilities. It isn't that we aren't good enough for the job or the promotion.

It could be that it just wasn't right for us, at the time.

Hardship happens and it isn't fair. 

Life seems easier for some people; they seem more blessed.

(And thank God for that because I'd have to give up an awful lot to get a little more even with some people who have what seems like absolutely Nothing.)

The hard truth is that *easy* lacks depth. 

When my groom and I have a challenging moment and we're caught in the headwind of a brutal storm, there have been moments when I have been grateful for the ways the winds brought us together.

Hunkered down with no place to run, it feels like fleeing is our better choice. Yet, our protection from the storm is in our closeness--in our staying through the weathering.

Where we're willing to talk and not run away is like the eye of the storm--a thin place where we're able to see more clearly as life *whirls and twirls* around us.

We always seem stronger after storms.

The remnants of the winds are reminders of the raging threat to our lives, and our togetherness--our life--is a reminder of Grace.

I've a friend who has had many storms in her young years of marriage. She's questioned God and she's teetered on giving up. Her heart has tried to trust and she's felt shaky in her faith.

There have been times when I've felt so strongly that maybe running away from the storm would be better for my friend.

I've forgotten that running can be deadly.

Through surviving incredible history-making storms, I've come to see that there is Purpose. There is blessing. There is Grace. 

Storms have this amazing ability to bring people together in the most amazing ways. Hearts open wide and reveal raw fear, and in that place of sheer terror for the gusts that seem to threaten life itself, trust is in the slight flicker of a candle--the Light that makes staying more bearable.

With rains pouring down, there's safety in the walls where there's togetherness.

This friend of mine has held her breath through howling winds of one bad choice after another and trudged through mucky waters of financial disaster--the residual of storms that have hardly seemed tropical.

My friend has lived to tell the story.

All along she's been blessed. Enormously.

She's seen evidence of God's provision in the seemingly least likely of places. She's given thanks for the bread she's eaten, each piece savored as though it might be her very last. And though grey skies and flood warnings continue to prevail, she will grow even still.

There are incredible things we learn through living a Storm.

Sometimes, the beauty that grows is most appreciated by those who have seen entire lands wiped clean and feared there couldn't possibly ever be life grown there again.

When life blooms anyway and harvests are bountiful where it seemed nearly impossible, there is enormous thanksgiving--a sharing of the story of how it came to be. This is beautiful, living worship.

Storms challenge Courage to rise up to insurmountable depths. 

Hearts that have had replacements are the ones often times most appreciated. The ones that have been compromised and threatened are the ones most counted as blessed.

The truth is that all hearts are blessed.

Sometimes we just need to be willing to surrender every bit of our land for our *living* to grow. 

Even if a new job seems like the {nearly perfect} forecast for our days, it could be that the rain and togetherness in the storm is what we need most.
________________________________________

Join A {Grace} full *life* facebook community.