Resting in Faith & Trust

Last night brought crazy, threatening weather to Georgia. I was on my family room sofa finishing up some Beth Moore homework when the storm rolled in with strong thunder and lightening. I had read the forecast earlier in the day and knew it was coming, so I enjoyed the sounds of nature's fury for a bit.

Enjoyment turned to alarm when I heard the sirens and suddenly an unfamiliar male announcer's voice repeating the words, "Seek shelter" over and over in a clear, commanding tone.

It was 10pm and I was the only adult in the house. My husband was at the hospital in the OR with a trauma. My children were sleeping soundly upstairs. Suddenly my phone started beeping with text messages from neighbors who had also heard the alarms and were checking on us from their basements. (I love my neighbors!)

I ran upstairs and tossed three beanbags over the rail into the inner hall. I then picked up my sleeping oblivious children and carried them downstairs one by one. As I roused them from their slumber they reacted with a small measure of confusion. All it took to calm them was a hug, quiet words of comfort, perhaps even a whiff of my hair and neck. They knew it was Mommy moving them--so they didn't seem too concerned about where or why.

One by one I got them downstairs. (They are getting heavy and being asleep seemed to amplify that fact!) Nestled into their sleeping bags with their lovies, covered in familiar blankets, each seemed to be settled back into their slumber before I could get back downstairs with the next.

Once, K was roused by a clap of thunder enough to open her eyes and begin to sit up. I was crouched right next to her. Her eyes met mine.
"It's just a storm, baby. Mommy's here. You are fine."
That was enough. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell fast asleep.
As I looked at them, I was reminded of what childlike faith and trust really looks like.
There was a dangerous storm raging outside. Sirens were going off. I was concerned enough to wake them and move them to safety. But my children weren't worried. They know I love them and I would give my life for them. I was there and they trusted that I would protect them. My presence and their faith was enough.

Oh, how humbling and challenging! Lord, I confess that I often fail to have faith in YOU, Creator and Sustainer of the Universe, like my sweet children have in frail and faulty me.

I question when you disrupt my comfort. I balk when you want to move me from the place I feel secure. I get intimidated by storms raging around me.

Forgive me--and give me the trust of my 6 year olds.