Surviving The Sudden Storm

Engines roared as we took off  in this massive piece of metal called an airplane. By all rights it should be far too heavy to fly. But… Now at thirty seven thousand feet we were soaring like an eagle high above the clouds. With my headset on and listening to the pulsating and moving harmony’s of the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir I was enjoying the ride. What could be better than this? Looking out the window, like huge cotton balls of various shapes and configurations, those clouds hung suspended above the earth in a most majestic fashion.

I knew it was going to be a marathon trip.  From Los Angeles, to Salt Lake City,  to Houston and then on to Fort Lauderdale. I was more than tired and ready to get home even if I had to “puddle jump” to get there. It was early in the morning and I knew I would not be arriving home until late at night but  at least I would be home. The flight from Los Angeles to Salt Lake City had been terrific. And now leaving Utah the take-off roll had been perfect as we once again rose into the heavens. The azure skies glistened with the brightness of the sun as I settled back in my seat to enjoy the ride. We were about forty-five minutes out of Houston airport when what started out as a few bumps began to turn into the roller coaster ride of my life. The “fasten your seat belts” sign came on. The beautiful blue skies were now growing more ominous by the second.  In just a few moments of time, suddenly, from out of nowhere, we were flying through a horrendous storm. All I could see now was the  black clouds that appeared to swallow the wings while, at the same time, the rain beat vehemently against the windows like a fighter in the ring. Of course, the lightning was flashing piercing the darkness for a brief moment and then it would disappear as quickly as it had come.

Obviously, I couldn’t get off and say, “I’ll think I’ll walk.” Those of us on that plane were a captive audience in a real-live drama. There was a grandfather sitting to my right who had enjoyed sharing pictures of his grandchildren with me and telling me wonderful stories of his childhood. I absolutely did not want him to know this “woman of faith and power” was at the moment quite terrified. However, I think he must have known when, as the plane took a major dip, I grabbed his arm with a grip not indicative of my small stature. With a sheepish grin I said, “Oh, excuse me. I think this weather is a bit rough, don’t you?”  This kind grandfather chuckled and said, “That’s quite all right, young lady. I’m a bit scared myself.” What? This mature grandfather afraid. Oh, no. Not good. This must be it or so I thought. In all of my travels I had never been in a storm quite like this one.

I reached over grandpa and without hesitation pulled the shade down over the window. Out of sight. Out of mind. Well, not quite. I did figure, however, if I didn’t see the dark clouds maybe I could shift my thoughts from the storm to something else a bit more peaceful. Secondly, I fixed my eyes on the pilot. No, more like I stared at the pilot. This is back in the day when they would keep the cockpit doors open. I carefully concluded that as long as the pilot seemed calm and I didn’t see him break a sweat, every thing must be all right. Obviously, we landed safely and I lived to tell the story. Now, I’m a student pilot and I am learning how to fly a plane. Here are some things I learned that day that I could never learn in a text book about surviving the sudden storm. First, I learned that unexpected storms will come. That’s just a fact of life. Secondly, you’ve got to learn the art of shifting  your focus. It could very well be a matter of life or death. When I pulled the shades over the windows I no longer focused on the storm but rather the pilot. He was listening to the tower and he had his eyes on the instruments. I was no longer fixated on the storm with its horrors but rather the performance and precision of the pilot.

If you are experiencing a sudden storm in your life right now pull the shade down. Here’s what I mean. Shut out the doubt and the fear. Tune out all the toxic people who would try to tell you that you’re not going to make it. You make the decision to move your gaze from the storm to the Pilot of all pilots, Jesus Christ. The Captain and the Master of the storm. I’m fully aware of just how rough the storms of life can be. I understand the buffeting winds and the torrential rains of the circumstances you may be facing right now. But because I know the Pilot I have every confidence that not only can you survive this sudden storm but you can thrive in the middle of it. Keep your eyes on the Pilot. He’s got it all under control! Safe landing….

They Taught Me The Difference

The voodoo drums were pulsating their rhythmic cadence with a frenzied pitch echoing through the valley and wafting their way through the windows of our home in Haiti. The mystical mutterings of the voodoo priests invoking the spirits to protect the crops of the people or any number of other requests remained a mystery. The only thing I could hear was the beat of the drums. Should I be afraid? What impact would this religious ritual have on me and my family? The sound of the drums would rise and fall like the ebb and flow of the sea. Loud and then soft. Soft and then loud. No pillow over your ears in the dark of the night could silence the sound of these drums. Believe me I tried.

Living in this new country with our new found friends was both a joy and an adventure. They had so welcomed us and had now become our family. Haiti had become our home. Why were we there? Mom and dad had been assigned as missionaries and we were obviously a willing part of the package. Poised atop a hillside overlooking the city of Port-au-prince, not too far from the Canape Verde Hospital, on this night I learned the real difference between religious ritual and meaningful relationship. Between light and darkness.  It seemed that on this particular evening the drums sounded even louder than before. Or at least that was the way it appeared to me. In the theater of my mind I could only imagine what was going on as these worshipers with a fervor known only to them invoked the spirits.

That was it. I had to know. I threw the covers off, marched like a teenager on a mission into mom and dad’s bedroom across the hall. I said two words that, as far as I was concerned, was really the understatement of the year.  ”I’m scared.” I think my heart was beating in my chest as loudly, if not louder, than those drums.  How could they possibly sleep with all this going on? It was beyond me.  What about all those spirits that were floating around? Would one of them find their way up the hill and through one of our windows? Dad and mom realized that I, with my most inquisitive mind, needed some answers.  Dad slowly sat up on the side of the bed and patiently posed this question, “Diane, what do you hear?” Now what kind of question was that? I was in their room in the middle of the night because I was hearing the sound of the voodoo drums. I know he had to hear it, too. He continued his discourse with mother in her quiet gentle way lending her support to this most important “teaching moment.”  I responded, “Dad, I can’t sleep because those voodoo drums are keeping me awake. It’s just plain scary.”

Dad was such a wise man and I will always be grateful for this moment because it was then he taught me a powerful truth that to this day I live by it. He posed yet another question, “Is that the only thing you are hearing? Listen closely.”  Next door at the Bourdon Church of God on the campus of our mission compound there was an all night prayer meeting going on. You could hear the people praying. Yes. There it was like a light bulb being turned on in a darkened room filled with scary images being dispelled by the light. Prayer. It was an all pervading force that drove back the fear that I felt. It brought a calm and a courage into my spirit. Their prayers filled the atmosphere and invaded the valley impacting not only me but I believe an entire nation. Suddenly, the sound of faith began to grow louder than the sound of those fear invoking drums. Those precious ones gathered in that little church on a hillside in Haiti were a mighty force in God’s plan to teach me a life-changing truth.  Dad said, “When God’s people pray it moves heaven and invades the powers of darkness with the light of His power which is far greater.” He continued, “Diane, you never have to fear because it is impossible for anyone to curse what God has blessed.” Oh, good. No little evil spirits were going to get through our windows.

To be sure we need not fear the future because God is already there. That’s what a relationship with Him is all about. Not religion. Not ritual. But Relationship. Thank God for the light. Thank you, dad and mom, for teaching me the difference. What’s that I hear? It’s the drumbeat of heaven – prayer.

He Taught Me Responsibility

I was soon to leave for what was then known as Lee College in Cleveland, Tennessee and my parents decided to take me to the bank in downtown Winter Garden to put me on their bank account.  What could be better than that? That was a happy day for this soon to be college student. There should have been a drum roll or something as I signed the card that would give me access to their money. Now the idea of this exercise in high finance was just in case of an emergency I would have the ability to get the needed funds. They wanted to make sure I was taken care of so far away from home. This eighteen year old (at the time) felt like a millionaire. Now my parents were not wealthy according to this world’s standards  but they had been good stewards of their finances over the years and were blessed. I did not realize it at the time but I was soon to learn a lesson that would not be taught in a classroom but rather in the school of experience.  I was soon to learn that along with privilege comes great  responsibility. The abuse of privilege is the beginning of irresponsibility and that is one thing my parents would not tolerate.

Things were going so well at college and I was enjoying meeting new friends, eating in restaurants, eating in restaurants, and eating in restaurants. Did I mention I was eating in restaurants? Now I do not want any of my readers to possibly think that I am older than my years, but this was back in the day when you could write checks at eating establishments with no problem. You know, before the days of debit cards and easy access to credit cards for college students. It seemed that everyday became an emergency. Hadn’t my parents always taught me to be generous and have a giving spirit? Yes, but they had also taught me responsibility. It always amazes me how we can always justify our own actions when it’s convenient. I would invite my friends and sometimes people I didn’t even know to join me at the local restaurant and my checkbook would always come out when the check came. I was having fun. My friends and their friends were delighted. Until….

One fateful day I received a phone call from my father. To this day I can hear the serious tone in my otherwise jovial dad’s voice. “Diane, I have a word for you. Today I went down to the Bank of Winter Garden and I took your name off of our bank account. Have a good day.” Then he politely hung up. Have a good day? How was that possible? I was mortified. How was I going to make it? It was most definitely a reality check and a reminder that just as they had been good stewards over their finances, so I must be over what had been entrusted into my care. My friends? Well, my real friends didn’t seem to mind too much that we couldn’t go out quite as much. The cafeteria wasn’t so bad after all. Responsibility and I became very good friends and are still friends to this day.

On a side note. Another powerful principle I learned from this most interesting experience was this. When I was a on their bank account, the mere fact that I was Garland Mann’s daughter gave me access to their resources. All I had to do was write a check. And I must confess I did that very well. Think of the implications of that spiritually.  Isn’t that how our heavenly Father is? Because we are His children and He signed “the card” dipped with a quill of promise in His own blood, He has given us access to heaven’s resources where there is no lack. Well, all I can say is “thank you, dad, for teaching me that hard but much needed lesson in responsibility. Also, thanks for teaching me the heart of our heavenly Father toward His children. May we never take it for granted.”

She Taught Me Love

The long-awaited moment had arrived. Dare I risk my heart again? Would this be forever? All I knew  a door had opened and I was certain I must walk through. So tiny and fragile. Only four pounds and seven ounces. She fit perfectly in the palm of my hand with feet dangling like two little cotton balls on my wrist. Eyes wide with wonder and a toothless smile that would light the darkest room. Her tiny fingers wrapped around mine with a grip that said, “We belong together.”   At that very second, which seemed very much like such a spiritual moment between God, this wiggling bundle of destiny and me, I knew that she was my gift. I wonder if this is how my mother felt when she held me for the first time. Would I be a good mommy? Absolutely. Not because I am arrogant and know all the latest “mothering techniques”  but because I treasure the gift. The depth and the magnitude of the love I felt cannot be explained as I gazed in the face of this beautiful baby girl. Right then and there she taught me a lesson without ever saying a word that I will never forget of the inexplicable and undeniable kind of love that God has for His children.

She no longer fits in the palm of my hand but she remains snuggled tightly in my heart. She continues to teach me daily the lessons of love that will last a lifetime. Thank you, my daughter, my destiny, my gift…. Always and forever.  Mom.

She Taught Me Trust

The moment had come as I stood poised beneath the stalwart yet lumbering oak tree in our backyard. This was most definitely a preconceived idea – a carefully, concocted plan – to climb the tree with one strange twist. There was a massive limb that grew oddly out of the side of that tree in a most unusual configuration. It was my intention to not only climb the tree, but to also conquer this most challenging limb.  I felt like a curious adventurer about go into uncharted territory or a wilderness warrior about to slay the lion that I just knew (in my imagination, of course) was lurking somewhere watching and waiting to pounce at any moment. So with my imaginary weaponry in hand I moved the “concrete block” (now that was real) underneath the limb of the tree at just the right spot to hoist my tiny frame onto this monstrous oak.

Up I went in one fell swoop holding tightly to the trunk positioning my feet ever so carefully on the sides and finally finding some footing on limbs that would assist me on this  journey. I made my way slowly yet surely up the tree and then began my intricate task of getting out on that limb. I wanted to reach the very last leaf on the tree as the victor. Everything had been going smoothly up until now. There had been no incidents or accidents. Yes, I was conquering the mighty oak. Or was I? When making plans I have now learned it is of utmost importance to plan for the unexpected. When you’re making the calculations and developing strategies it’s always necessary to factor in surprises. Here I was up a tree and out on a limb. Wasn’t that the goal?  Yes, with one slight exception, I was upside down on the limb and could not seem to swing myself right side up. O.K. I heard you laugh. Fear, like an unwelcome intruder, began to wrap it’s icy tentacles around my heart. I was too far up to drop to the ground and besides there was the infamous concrete block underneath me. Where were those imaginary warriors that had accompanied me on this adventure? I’ll answer that. They were in “my imagination.” It was now time for a reality check.

At the top of my lungs I began to yell, “Mother.” It seemed like forever. All of a sudden the back sliding glass doors opened and here she came running as fast as she could. She had been washing dishes at the kitchen sink (remember the days before the dishwasher?) when she heard this shrieking, shrill little voice calling her name. With dish towel in hand, my hero, my mom, stood underneath where I hung clinging ever so tightly like a frightened cat to my  limb. Ever so calmly my mom said, “Diane, turn loose. Let go and fall into mother’s arms and I will catch you.” Here I was up in the oak a tree and out on a limb. There she was telling me to let go of what little security I had at the moment and trust her ability to catch me. A choice had to be made. I had to either trust her ability to catch me or resign myself to remain in this distressing dilemma. I closed my eyes (why I did that , I don’t have a clue) and I turned loose, I let go of my vice grip of that limb and I fell into her strong, safe arms. Just as she promised, she caught me.  Whew!

Now I don’t know what distressing dilemma you find yourself in today. You may feel in a very real sense that you are up a tree and out on a limb. It seems your choices are very limited. The most important one is this: Turn loose of your fear, let go of your worry and release yourself into the ability of a God who is strong enough to catch you and hold you in the safety of His loving arms.  Now I’m standing under the tree with my arms ready, just in case…..