When the storm comes

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It came suddenly, without warning.  Storm clouds rush in, darkening the sky.   I run to pull down windows.  I go to the deck to secure anything that could blow away.

I see the trees begin to sway under the force of the blowing wind.  Their branches are pulled one way then another, back and forth.  I watch as they give way to the storm, bending but not breaking, surrendering to what is.

And I wonder, can I be the tree, bending beneath the weight of this storm without  breaking?  I want to.

The tempest rages inside me and I cry out for the pain of it.  I ask for strength to keep standing.  I pray that the roots of my faith have grown deep enough to secure my feet on the solid Rock and hold me steadfast and sure.

The storm outside passes over. The trees still stand tall.  Broken branches are strewn upon the ground, dead and lifeless.  They were useless to the tree, only hindering its growth and shadowing its beauty.  They must  come down.

For me, this too shall pass.   Pruning will cut away the dead and lifeless, that which is not good for my greater purpose. Those things that are sucking the life from me and weighing me down must be removed.

I lift my hands and sway in the breeze.  Let the winds blow, Lord.  Let the winds blow.

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