The Voice in the Storm

It's been a long, long week...nothing to speak of, good or bad, just busy with living. But by Saturday night the mean little voice in my head was singing, in the cheery tones of Cat Stevens "Another Saturday night & I ain't got nobody....how I wish I had someone to talk to, I'm in an awful way". So, yes, I was most definitely feeling sorry for myself, which is never a good state to be in.

Nonetheless by the time Sunday morning rolled in I was feeling much better-and yet the longing lingers. I find it almost ironic that I find myself feeling this way, even as I extol the advantages of single living. I wake up stretched out in the middle of the bed, no one else gets the last cup of coffee and I never have to watch a hockey game....I wonder, even as I dream of finding my so called soul-mate, if I could easily give up the freedoms I enjoy. No one asks why I need another pair of shoes or why I got home late from work, or complains about the stack of books on the night stand and dining room table. On the other hand, no on asks why I need another pair of shoes, or why I'm late, or complains about the stacks of books on the table.

All that said I went to church intending to lose my self in worship and reset the coming week to "zero", and just maybe gain some insight into where I was supposed to be. During the Communion worship I stood with my eyes closed, my aching heart longing for answers, and all I could feel was the bass in the music causing the floor beneath my feet to tremble, and I found myself remembering the thrill I used to find in listening to the rumble of thunder. For a moment I allowed myself to regret not listening for the voice of God in the recent thunder we have experienced (I live in a house long neglected because of financial constraints, so extreme weather causes more concern & alarm than the awe it once did). The bass continued its beat, and I felt it deep within as my chest wall felt the vibration and my heart began to echo it. I became physically one with the music. Feeling the the thrum of it in me brought me back to the first time I heard the voice of God. He spoke to me in a storm in a voice I felt as much as I heard, and while, at the time I awoke feeling something akin to fear recalling it now makes me feel utterly safe and sure I have a bigger calling and purpose than the place I may find myself.

I was 13 and we were camping in Waterton. In the middle of the night a storm blew in across the lake, as they do, and my friend & I, who had been sleeping in a tent outside her parents' RV woke & moved inside out of the wind and quickly returned to sleep as only teenagers can. Somewhere in the midst of all of that I had a dream. I have never been able to recall anything of the dream except for this deep, deep voice, a voice I felt with every fiber of my being as much as my ears physically heard it. The voice resonated, resonates still, somewhere quite primal in my being, defying description. The closest I have ever come since was hearing someone once blow a shofar. Regardless, I woke up shaken, heart pounding, feeling a little disoriented, with one phrase echoing in my head. "I AM".
Now, to be sure, I had at some point heard the story of Moses and the burning bush, and what God had spoken to Moses when he inquired whom he should say had sent him, but it was years later, and I no longer remember the details (was I just reading Exodus, was I in church, following references in a sermon? I don't know) but those words leapt off the page and reawakened a long forgotten memory.
It has been 30 years and I still don't know quite what I was called into. I still seek God's voice in the storm though, or try to remind myself to, when the storm threatens to overwhelm me. Today the recollection brought comfort in reminding me that while I may be on this leg of my journey alone, I am never truly alone. I AM has called out to me in the storm and my job is just to trust that all will be well.