Gentle landing

That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, 

“Let us go over to the other side.”Leaving the crowd 

behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. 

There were also other boats with him. A furious squall 

came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it 

was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping 

on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, 

“Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”He got up,

rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” 

Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. 

He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? 

Do you still have no faith?”

(Mark 4:35-41, New International Version)

In the days preceding the big storm that is spiraling its way toward New York harbor, my heart has been on edge for my son and sister who live in Washington, DC and Virginia.  I've been that hysterical mother who begs her son to just get out of the way and come to Portland or drive to my other sister's home in Detroit. 

Stubbornly, as has always been my precocious, inquisitive and bright young boy's style, he insisted on staying in his apartment in downtown DC for the duration of the storm.  I even suspected he thought it would be fun.  He grew up in Buffalo where winter blizzards and being snowed in for days at a time were just a normal part of the season - even in October once!  But, I feared this would be different.  My sister in Detroit said the winds were already picking up at her house because of an approaching northeaster that was sweeping down from Canada, the very one that weathercasters were saying would turn a typical tropical hurricane into a monster storm.

Our entire family is holding its breath as we watch and wait helplessly, praying that this thing simply blows over and doesn't do the damage that we are being warned it may. Part of our faith is to simply pray for the best, visualize a calm passing over - a kind of pass over - if you can imagine.

We are not the stock of people who interpret storms as divine messages, but we are also aware that the Earth herself is going through a new stage of self healing (to put it mildly) and as I was worrying about my son in DC, a 7.7 earthquake struck off the coast of British Columbia north of us, leaving nothing more than a reminder that we are all at the mercy of our restless planet these days.

There is no reason for this - other than that the earth is restless due to climactic changes due partially to our over production of greenhouses gases. The other factor, which is completely out of our control, is the other planets are reported by scientists to be warming up also in our solar system.  

We who so ardently think we can control our lives, can do nothing to change this.  We cannot calm this storm.  We cannot stop an earthquake and that's just a couple of the things we cannot do. We can only stay glued together with our faith and our love.

We can send soothing, loving thoughts to each other.  And, most of all we can be reminded how fragile life is, and maybe in this awareness of our global impotence, we might surrender it all to God - however we understand God.  We are powerless and we have only one choice - well, two, maybe.  One is to realize we are powerless, as an addict is powerless over his/her addiction, and we can only surrender the entire situation over to God.  The other is to thank God for his power and love and in that gratefulness, we can slip into a state of peace and remember how much we love each other.

So, tonight, as I hold out hope that this monster storm will turn away into the Atlantic, away from the eastern coast and settle down to a mere purr rather than the roaring lion it's forecast to be, I am sending love to my precious son and my sweet sister.  May they be safe.  May everyone be safe.  And, may we all remember to wrap each other (and every thought and word and child and friend and family member) in a blanket of  love and light, enveloped as well with the hope of a gentle outcome.

Be safe, my precious ones. 

Art:  Placid Sunset by Mario Perez