A Storm Is Coming

And I'm Mostly Prepared

You may have heard a monster storm is heading our way. I want you to know that in earnest preparation and in sincere anticipation of being stranded at home for days, I went straightaway this morning to get my nails done. Because, you know, it would be rather distressing to be starving and freezing with terrible looking fingernails.

But I will also say I have gone to the grocery store and filled my cart three days in a row now, and even the store manager, who said hello to me yesterday, saw me again today and said, “You’re back!” I managed a chagrined nod in return.

All of that to say, we are well stocked for Snow-Megedden or whatever comes our way, but if we lose power for very long, my personal backup plan is a spontaneous trip to Florida. Because I’m ready to fulfill my true calling as a snowbird.

Being a California native I’m not accustomed to extreme weather events, but I do remember a severe windstorm that swept through Los Angeles one time. The wind screeched with a deafening cry as it rushed about in speeds uncommon. The weatherwoman in high heels called it a once-in-a-century windstorm.

By morning the fury outside had traveled further south, and an eerie silence followed in its wake. Up and down our street, trash cans were knocked over and flower beds lay flattened. A mess of palm branches and tree limbs were strewn about everywhere. And across the cul-de-sac an old ash tree lay horizontal, its bare limbs pointing awkwardly toward the sky. At the base of the tree a tangle of roots revealed what was once hidden.

The roots weren’t deep enough to withstand the power of the storm. The tree’s anchor gave way.

A few weeks later, my husband and I took a stroll through Descanso Gardens near Pasadena. A lovely rose garden is there, along with a Japanese garden and the largest camelia collection on the continent. Then we walked through the Oak Forest. Massive oaks stood next to each other — their foliage so thick the sun couldn’t reach the earth. The landscape was so picturesque that professional photographers lined up at certain vista points to capture the beauty around us.

The writer in me wanted to script a scene, but the only words that came to mind were Isaiah’s:

“They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.” (Isaiah 61:3b)

I used to think it was strange for the old prophet to liken God’s people to oak trees. But walking through the Oak Forest so soon after a major windstorm changed my perspective. I imagined the roots beneath my feet, deep underground and likely mingled together with the roots of other trees, making them even stronger. Unlike the ash tree on my street, these oaks were still standing. Together.

That’s the picture Isaiah gave: Oaks of righteousness. God’s people. Standing together, in community, with their roots planted deep, where the living water of the Word could nourish their souls (Psalm 1:3). God never intended for us to move through this life alone. And how well we love one another, especially in the midst of a storm, says a lot about who we are and the God we serve.

None of us really know what to expect in the coming days. But we’ll check on our neighbors, and they’ll check on us.

And I did squeeze in one last trip to Walgreens, because one must have a backup mascara in case of a dire emergency.

Stay warm, my friends.

Shalom.

Denise

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A Few Notes…

*While Waiting for Morning: An Invitation to Pray is available. If you’re like me and you prefer to hold a printed book in your hands, you can find a copy at Barnes and Noble or Amazon.

*Thank you for your vote of confidence when you tap on the “heart” at the top of each post. And, as always, you are welcome to share these words with a friend.

*And lastly, no part of this newsletter — nor anything I have ever published — has been made with Artificial Intelligence (AI) or ghostwriters. All of my words, including any accidental typos, are my own, except for when I quote others with appropriate citations and links.