The Calm in the Storm

This afternoon, I was standing in line with my shopping cart full of food, at least what food I could still find on the half-empty shelves. All around me were other families doing the same. The lines stretched into the aisles, but no one was pushing or yelling. In fact, people were calm and polite, some quiet, some laughing, some making conversation with strangers.

But I felt so tired. It had been such a strange few days. I just wanted to get some food to feed my brood. Being surrounded by people in crisis made me want to cry and I didn't know why.

Suddenly, an image filled my mind. It was a scene from the book "Tales of the Restoration", by David and Karen Mains. In a midst of a riot in the city, in which citizens were throwing mud at each other, a man quietly appeared.

...the man was wearing working-man's dungarees, a flannel shirt, a hardhat, and steel-toed boots. As the boy watched, the street cleaner said nothing. He scarcely glanced about him, but just kept cleaning and sweeping and shoveling the mess. 

A fistful of mud hit the man in the chest. He neither shouted in anger or threw the dirt back at the crowd; he didn't even wipe the filth from his shirt.

The boy in the story soon realized that the man was Jesus. Jesus is the peace in the midst of the storm; even better, He is the one who calms all storms.

This afternoon, as I stood in line with my shopping cart full of food, I closed my eyes and rested on this image. I imagined Jesus walking through the grocery store and bringing a peace-that-passes-understanding with him. I prayed for Jesus to calm the storm in my heart, that His peace would fill me, so that I could pass it on to others.

I realize now why I feel so tired. I've always felt others' pain very strongly, and every story I heard about people dying, children not getting fed because schools are closing, the elderly not having toilet paper, small businesses being in danger is like a boulder on my shoulder. Being in a store full of people "in panic" (as calm as we all were) was like an avalanche on my soul.

And so I've been reading and re-reading these words from Psalm 18:

I love you, O Lord, my strength.

The Lord is my rock, and my fortress and my deliverer;

my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,

my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

This is the verse on my chalkboard right now. As my family lives in close quarters for the next few weeks, this will be our reminder that it is not these physical walls that protect us, but our God.