I wept in the wind tonight. Lured outside by a distant flash of lightning, I brought my tea and grieving heart and sat outside alone on the patio.
“When will my wounded soul mend?” I pleaded through escaping tears . “Will I ever give thanks and see beauty in these scars?” I looked up to the dark sky and silently accused my Creator of tardiness. Abruptly, my thoughts—dark like the evening clouds—were interrupted by lyrical notes. A cool breeze tousled the wind chimes, offering a joyful song composed by the passing storm. My wind-kissed tears dried as I listened to the jubilant harmonies.
Chimes don’t ring on their own. They offer gentle melodies directed by light breezes, but they play a symphony in a storm. My life has broken places only recently recognized that I must grieve before I can go on. But healing will come. And even while I mourned this night, God sang a love song to my heart--echoed by the concerto of the chimes--comforting me.
Encouraged, I spoke into the storm. “We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against powers and principalities . . .” then stopped, not remembering the rest of the verse. The sky lit up in affirmation. So I continued. “Stand, therefore, (in the armor of God.) And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will mount garrison over your heart and mind in Christ Jesus.” The sky illuminated encouragement. I kept speaking truth into the threatening face of the gale. “Peace give I to you. Not as the world gives.” “Don’t let your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. I’m going to prepare a place for you.”
There’s a place for me. Unique, special, created just for me by the Lover of my soul.
The dark cloud moved off, taking the lightning and thunder with it. The chimes swayed slowly, exhausted and spent, while hope consumed my tears.
I am accepted. Included. Beloved. He rejoices over me with singing.
And plays a love song in the storm.