It’s 2:05 am and sleep escapes me, so I tiptoe out of bed and make myself a hot cup of coffee before wrapping myself in a blanket, settled into my favorite chair.
The wind roars like a huge freight train outside, and even though I only see darkness as I peer through the window, I sense its powerful force against the big glass panes of my sunroom. The deafening sound surrounds my house, and I hear its walls cracking under the pressure, pushing back against the giant lurking all around. My wind chime is going wild.
Yet I am strangely cozy in here. I take a sip of my steaming cup of coffee, breathing in its delightful aroma.
Life has been a bit wild lately with grown-up, serious issues that could easily erode joy and fill me with dread. I have felt a pressure akin to this violent wind pushing against the walls of my heart–thus this 2 am wide-awake episode.
Yet this heart of mine is strangely cozy in the midst of the wild. It takes lovely sips of Jesus moment by moment, breathing in strength from above. And I wonder if that is what grace really means–this unexpected steadfastness in the midst of a storm.
My wind chime is going crazy outside, its usual lovely song turning into a threatening scream as it yields itself to the wind’s violence.
I take another sip and continue to listen to the wildness all around. I don’t think my wind chime is going to make it through the night unstained. And right then, I hear it crashing down, and its song is silenced, broken under the pressure of it all.
My wind chime is dead.
But I am not.
Even though sleep is rare these days as I ponder the violence pushing against me, my song has not turned into screams, and I have not been silenced.
I marvel at this settled heart of mine. And I wonder if that’s what grace really means–the practice of knowing deep inside that the winds all around can never negate the fact that He is here to stay.