A song in the storm...

Last night we had a thunderstorm. And at 11:15 pm, a tornado watch flashed across the screen. Now, yall know I don't do so well with the words "Tornado" and "Watch"...even worse with the words "Tornado" and "Warning". You might as well tell me the sky has been swallowed up by dragons and we're all gone die. (Southern speak yall...keep up)!

So I laid there in bed for quite some time, completely preparing myself to head for the bathtub with the mattress on my head while towing the kids (likely sleeping) in there with me at the first sound of "A freight train comin through the house" or something of the like. I looked outside the window at the rain as it was falling down and the trees sitting very still and had flashbacks of The Wizard of Oz and Miss Gulch flying past my window on a bicycle. Seriously, wouldn't you think the first time that part scared me, I just wouldn't have watched it anymore? But noooo, no, I had to watch it every year. And look where it's gotten me. 32 years old and trying to figure the mass times volume of a queen mattress and how I can manage to get it into the bathroom. If a tornado doesn't kill you, the heart attack you have lugging said mattress into a loo certainly will. Anyway, I digress...

It was about 1 am (and of course I couldn't sleep) and the thunder is booming and lightening is crackling and rain is whipping the house and in a little brief moment of a lull, I thought I heard a bird singing. I listened for it again between the thunder claps, and yes, it was definitely a bird singing, and I knew exactly which bird it was.

We have been blessed every Spring to have House Finches build nests on our porch--either in the wreath on the door, the hanging basket, and this year, the flower bucket on our front door. There are three precious little Tiffany blue eggs in there, and while the mama watches from the flag pole most days, I know that she sits on the nest at night. It was the Mama Finch singing. Now, whether she was actually shrieking out of fear of impending doom and it just sounded like singing to me is not really important. God reminded me in that moment, that even in the most dire of circumstances, when the rain is pelting your home and your sweet, fragile babies are depending on you to keep them safe, and when you don't know if you'll be able to fly in the morning, you can, and should still sing.

There are so many blessings we have in this life, and we all know what our individual ones are. I am not saying we don't have our struggles--we definitely do, and if wishes were horses, we'd all take a ride (something my grandma used to tell me, when I start out with "I wish...") but our circumstances should not overshadow our gratefulness, our thanks for what we've been given. I've been blessed with more than I could ever possibly have hoped for or wanted, and they're not things...they're relationships...

Deployment sucks. There's no getting around that. But just like in golf, how it's all in the swing, joy comes from an attitude, a song that can't be silenced just because the rain falls. It's a concious decision we make everyday, and although we can't be happy all the time, we can still sing.

His eye is on the Sparrow, and I know He watches me...