A few nights ago, lying in bed in the middle of a storm, these loose thoughts came to me. The gist is that we don’t always have it together – sometimes storms do hit our lives but, invariably, we come out the other side. More than that I won’t explain – I hope it means something to you and can encourage you.
Heavy drops pelting the tin roof above my bed; trying with all they have to wound their target … or themselves. It’s 2am. The thunder rolls about my head, familiar, yet more angry than usual.
On another day I might find it comforting even, this African storm I know so well, but tonight it just helps to drive sleep away, soak my soul in sadness, sting my thin skin with accusations.
It will abate, I’m sure, it normally does. The needling (drops) will thin to a pitter patter and bathe my raw, muddied soul. And in a few hours dawn will break in all its golden grace-filled glory, the sun will warm and smile and heal.
But tonight, tonight my bed, and me on it, lies amidst a storm.