A Shelter in the Time of Storm
Finally I spotted my husband in a store across the way and I zoomed over to him. He chatted with a salesman. They had their backs to a huge window. Wind whipped the trees into arches that touched the ground, but they seemed oblivious to it all. I tugged on my husband's coat sleeve and mentioned the tornado warning that had blared through my phone. The salesman chuckled. "Oh we don't pay much attention to those warnings. They are non-stop at this time of year."
I looked at the trees bending beneath the fury of the wind, and then I glanced across to the store I had just stormed out of. People chatted, picked up merchandise, set it down, and strolled around like they were enjoying a walk in the park, even though their phones were also spewing warnings like popping corn in a theatre.
"But where would we go if there was a tornado?" I ventured, always the cautious one.
"Well, we would just crouch down, I suppose," he said in his slow drawl. He returned to his sales pitch.
I relaxed a little, seeing everybody go about their business like they were at the fair. But the next day we learned of several tornadoes, one that had left fatalities in its wake and of another one close by that had devastated a city.
It's true that when you live in Tornado Ally, you don't heed the warnings until it's too late. They are too common, too everyday to stop and take notice. On one hand people do not pay attention to warnings of imminent danger, and on the other hand, I seem to create imaginary situations to worry about as I think about my family, my job, and my health. My pendulum swings to the worry extreme while other's pendulums swing to the careless and carefree side. While some people die of a tornado by not heeding the dire warnings, I might die of high blood pressure by worrying about situations that are barely a fist-sized cloud in the sky.
The stress from my job and family situations had been building like black angry clouds, and swirling into tornadoes of anxiety. After much prayer, the Lord showed me that I was trying to meet everyone's expectations, which was impossible. He showed me that I needed a new mind-set. He whispered that it was okay to fail, to do my best and to stop striving. While I still tend to shoulder people's troubles, I'm learning to push my computer chair away from the desk, and take a break from the never-ending lesson planning. I'm learning to stop thinking about what could happen to my job with a new manager coming on board; I am learning to let go of the sky-high expectations my students place on me; I'm learning to fail and accept that I can't be perfect and I can't please everyone. I'm learning to stop worrying about my family, and their health, and be thankful instead. Switching one set of thoughts for another takes self-discipline. I am amazed at the freedom and the space in my mind that was once taken up by stress and anxiety.
My daughter texted me as I was writing my blog and said that her two-year old dropped a can of Pepsi on his bare foot. She thinks his toe might be broken. Off she goes with her children into town on unplowed gravel roads while the snow is coming down. I could worry but I'm letting it go. I can't take on the burden. Instead, I find myself saying, "Thank you Lord for my daughter being a good mother. Thank you for doctors being available and for the wisdom they have. Thank you for watching over them."
As much as it takes concentration and hard work as I pour myself into my jobs and ministries, I find it takes far more focus and strength to shut down my OCD brain, to back away, take a break, call my friends, take time for coffee, and to intentionally focus on beautiful and praise-worthy things.
So today, in the midst of storms because there is always a storm brewing somewhere, I choose to be thankful. To be balanced. To hunker down and "take cover" when need be - whether my grandson's toe is throbbing or my job is in jeopardy - and then to continue on my way, with His peace and joy. He is my shelter in the time of storm.
"Be transformed by the renewing of your mind," Romans 12:2b.
Pamela Mytroen
