tornadoes sirens and lightening strikes

Ok first, that title is somewhat misleading because I will probably only mention the tornado siren that went off tonight twice (including this) in this post but I’ve never heard one outside of a test so I was excited (yes, about potential death and destruction) about it happening.

In case you’re not from the US and stumbled upon this, or just didn’t look outside tonight and were oblivious to the sounds of thunder and lightening  (lightening doesn’t have a sound, Kait…) thunder and rain, this is what the whole middle of America looked like tonight.

Yes, that is just central Texas, but the storm stretched from Nebraska down to CTX so it was straight down the US.

I was sitting in Taco Cabana with the wonderful girl I’m going to live with next year and a plate full of fajitas, and was prepared to knock out some homework. The clouds were this beautiful, expectant, rain-heavy, dark-periwinkle blue color that was so wonderful I almost (almost, because I was starving post-workout) stopped to take a picture of them. But as we got our food, it took less than five minutes for the clouds to go from that beautiful blue shade to such a dark green-grey that it almost looked like midnight at 8 in the evening (which was sunset tonight; so it should’ve been pink, not black). We hightailed it back to campus, and right as we were near my building the tornado siren around the corner started wailing.

I love storms. SO much. I think they’re ridiculously beautiful and they ALWAYS put me in a worshipful mood (because hello look how majestic and powerful and wonderful they are and how much bigger and better  is God than some storm).

So of course, being me, I was like “dur hur, time to write a cheesy post about storms and strong towers and foundations, because duh” …ok and because I felt the Spirit nudging me to look storm verses up. As if I’d really make that connection on my own. I’m an oblivious idiot most of the time so He has to nudge (punch?) me hard when I need do do something.

And I started reading about how He’s our stronghold (in Isaiah but obviously a recurring theme). And I started reading a few psalms about dealing with tempests (because David was a poet so why not use a fun word like tempest). And of course the parable about building on the rock foundation.

I was reading these verses about how God protects us not just from the physical storms around us but from the spiritual tempests we weather too, and I was listening to the thunder’s drum-beat and the rain’s steady patter against my window and watching the lightening paint purple and blue streaks across the dark clouds, and simply marveling… When God told me to call a family member. And I knew her family was dealing with their own storm. And I knew that it was a storm I had faced before, and I knew the the images and emotions in that storm’s winds and waves. Because I’ve faced the waves that are tossed higher than my head by rape. I’ve felt the power of the wind blown by eating disorders that will bowl you over. I’ve seen the burning power of the lightening strike that is the electrifying decision to finally end my life. This storm is a familiar one. The scars that line my arms and body may be from my own hands and a razor blade, but they are really from the feelers that lightening bolt sent down before its big strike.

And all the little pieces of my testimony, that at the time were soul-crushing and all encompassing… I made it through. I would never wish most of my story on anyone else. And I wouldn’t say that I’m glad it happened how it did, but I am thankful that it happened, because now I do have that testimony. Because God can use it for incredible things. Because my past pain means that I can understand others’ pain, and help them find the healing I have. Because my twisted testimony can bring so much glory to God.

My twisted testimony can flash out just as bright and just as hot as those electric streaks that danced through the dark tonight. I get the privilege to dance through the dark every day, and touch those people that have been burned by the same terrible lightening I have. But now, instead of that pain, I can be a conductor for the spark that can shock their hearts into beating again.

But I have to be grounded to be able to conduct that life-lightening. I have to be grounded in the Rock, and have that firm foundation, or else the storm that I’m always in will blow me away and drown me again, and then I won’t be able to breathe myself, much less pass on a spark that I can’t find anymore. I have to build my life on the Rock to be able to paint the dark like I watched that lightening do tonight. I want to shine like that.

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