(This is my 5th in a series of reflections I've written, all on the same poem at the onset of a storm. I hope that this collection continues to grow over the years. Feb. 27, 2007 / Nov. 3, 2008 / Oct. 13, 2009 / Nov. 20, 2010)
There will be storms, child
There will be storms
And with each tempest
You will seem to stand alone
Against cruel winds
But with time, the rage and fury
Shall subside
And when the sky clears
You will find yourself
Clinging to someone
You would have never known
But for storms.
--"Storms", by Margie DeMerell
This time around, what speaks to me is the fact that there is nothing we can do to control the storm. We see it coming; we forecast it days in advance. Yet when the storm hits, it runs its course and doesn't go away until it's finished, regardless of what we do.
All we can do is prepare. We wear raincoats and hold umbrellas to protect ourselves. But I can't say I have that wisdom every storm.
There are many times when I give up at the thought of having no control over the storm and just walk right into it, without any preparation...and I foolishly hope for the best. When I do this, I choose to face the storm alone, and although I undoubtedly get through it, I emerge unhappy and tired.
I guess then my foolish hope is that someone, much wiser than me, finds me and shares an umbrella...shelters me through the storm as we face it together.
And perhaps this person would then inspire me to prepare for the next storm. That way, if this person ever decides to face the storm alone, then I can be the wiser person and share my umbrella.
