The Eye Of The Storm

I have never experienced a hurricane. The closest I have come to any sort of natural disaster is when they closed school because we had 18" of snow in one night. I've watched in awe and fear as newscasters try to continue broadcasting from the shores of some beach, and I can't help thinking:

"Wow...what an idiot."

He or she stands there on the brink of disaster, trying to assist those of us at home in our safe houses in imagining the fury of something like that storm. I watch the wind whip the reporters raincoat and see the rain pounding like pellets being cast from the heavens and I wonder what possesses anyone to stand there while the impending doom of 70+ mph winds bearing down on them like the sweeping hand of God comes their way. Then it hits me, they stand there so the rest of us don't have to, they stand there because they see things that others can't, or are too afraid to see.

I watched that reporter today, watched him standing in the eye of the storm as he so often does, trying desperately not to be swallowed up by the chaos that threatened to rip his world to shreds all around him. I watched as the eye of the storm began to shrink and those awful howling winds began to creep ever closer to the reporter. As is often the case, the signal became garbled and I was only receiving parts of the whole message as the fury of the storm crept ever closer to the reporter. Eventually we lost all communication for a time, and were quite worried that we would never see the reporter again. 

Then slowly, miraculously even, the signal began to return and we were relieved to find him alive. The storm had swallowed him up, tossed him about like a rag doll, then deposited him right where he started, exhausted from fighting against the wind and hail that beat him into submission. I watched that reporter, get to his feet, regain his composure, and once again begin to report the news. He was a little beaten, but unbroken, and as his newscast closed for the evening all who had seen the storm approaching wondered how he had survived. I admired him, was happy I had stayed tuned in, and then was humbled when I realized that he had fought the whole thing off.

Its a metaphor, and probably not a good one, but it describes our day perfectly. Spirit, I watch you in the eye of the storm and wonder how you will ever make it. I watch you as you delay the inevitable and continue to report until the last possible moment. Then I watch you rise from the hurricane that seems to try to destroy you, and you come back ready to report again. You are amazing, and I will be there every time the storm engulfs you. Praying that I can help you, knowing that I can't, but still praying, ever praying for that little boy in the storms created by your mind.

I love you.