As a child, I learned about a God who walks with us, a faithful companion even in dangerous weather who sometimes rescues us in a wild act of Divine intervention. God was the still, small voice, not the mighty rock-cracking wind in I Kings 19, but God sent it. The same God who spoke to Moses in Exodus 3 was inside the bush ablaze but not consumed.
While my actions contribute to the amount of peace or drama I experience, I am not in full control of it. (And I thank God for that.) The One writing my story knows every page, the joys and the sorrows.
Storms will come.
Whoever we are, whatever we do, storms will come. The universal nature of pain connects us; we are never truly alone. As Buddha observed, no one, rich or poor, is immune to sickness or death, and I observe a God concerned with my growth as well as my comfort. And while some of my Hindu friends are called to seek the enlightenment of meditative samadhi, I am called instead to feel emotions throughout this lifetime. In the spirit of Rumi’s Guest House, each feeling brings a gift worth welcoming, both the pleasant emotions and the ones I’d prefer to bypass.
Whether God is architect of the storm or our tireless companion in it, God’s grace means any storm is working FOR us. Life’s hurricanes and tornados are training us to bend without breaking and teaching us that when we break, the Healer sets our bones into greater strength.
So much happens in this messy, beautiful life that we cannot understand or explain. And yet, dear reader, if you are standing in grief and loss today, can you also feel a Force of Love weeping with you? I sense an ever-present God larger than any one dialect of faith and known by many names counting every tear.
I write to comfort your heart and mine: To let what breaks us down also break us open is a courageous and contagious act.
Healing will come.
While healing is a journey, not an event, healing will come. It may not look like the healing – or transformation – we would have ordered from a menu, but it will come.
As you take your next breath, deep into your belly, know that the person typing these words is wishing you strength and comfort.
May we be free from suffering.
May we find peace.
May we have ease and well-being.