The Storm

It didn't come quickly, as winter storms do.
It came slowly, like the summer storms.
You see them on the horizon.
A dark, black line separates the
light blue, peaceful sky
from the harsh wind, rain, and hail
that lie dormant
in the heavy clouds.

I built a shelter above ground.
Bolted the windows, sealed the doors.
But as the storm came closer, I could see the destruction in its wake
So I began to dig, first quickly, and then feverishly,
as fast as my hands could move
To create a safe place for myself and my loved ones.
That is what mothers do.

Just as the storm began to unleash itself
I called my family to the shelter.

Two got confused, and thought I was calling from outside the shelter.
They ran into the storm, and got sucked out into flying debris
and the harshest of hail this world has ever seen.
One heard my voice, and came to the shelter, hunkered down.
We listened to limbs crashing down, the roof caving in
water rushing through, pounding and pounding
as part of our lives washed away.

As the storm subsided, we exited the dark, safe confines.
The grief of the two missing ones, nearly overtook me.
But I had one, alive, thriving, that needed me.
I began to pick up the pieces and rebuild.
Singing, music, laughter, wonder, imagination
filled our home
Alongside a constant sorrow, like a lonely violin,
playing over and over, behind every scene in my life.

as I grieved the loss of the two missing children.
But peace gently descended
as I cried out to God.

A coldness descended.
Winter.
A brisk wind, out of the north, swept down while my back was turned,
and lifted my safe child out of my reach.

I called out, holding her hands tightly,
as she gripped my wrists.
But the roaring wind would not let go.
It pulled, with a vengance.
"Let go of my hands!" I pressed out of my lungs.
Her face, twisted and torn, begged me to keep holding on.
But I saw her shoulders beginning to separate, and the pain on her face
was unlike any I've ever seen.
I peeled her fingers
off my wrist, one by one
And watched her fly into the heart of the storm.

I pray that she will find her way out, along with the other two.
And when they return,
I will have the Red Cross standing by
To provide the best first aid
On planet Earth.
God's healing salve, that came to us, through Jesus,
will mend  the bones, and the cuts, and the bruises
and mis-guided thoughts
About life and love.

But I must wait.
And pray.
And believe.