Proof of Life

We love storms. If we could, my family would run outside every time the violent clouds approached, racing to feel the drenching rain beat against our skin. We would stand still like a martyr, waiting for the lightening bolt to strike us with its deadly white heat. We long for the defining crash of thunder to slap our body down and leave us breathless. We are crazy like that.

But most of the people I know hate storms. Grown men and women run from them and teach their children to fear them. They shield their eyes and pull the covers up high. Fear grips the heart--fear of the power, I guess, the power to hurt, wound and destroy. Everyone prefers the sunshine to the rain. And, why not? Sunshine brings happiness and hope and new beginnings.

But, who said I can’t dance when life crashes in with deafening thunder and crushing rain? Maybe it lets me know I am alive if I feel the storm soaking into my clothes, my skin…and my soul. The thunder rumbles and shakes the earth beneath me. And there can be no doubt that the universe is beyond me. I am but one lonely body in the midst of millions. One heart shaken to its core by the crack of thunder, fired like a shot gun in this space where I stand. Circumstances surround me like dark, ominous clouds. And then, just as the blackness promised—just as I feared—the angry storm strikes out with a holy rage that cannot be satisfied.

And I,…I choose to dance. I raise my face to the sky and let the rain slap against me. I glide around and around with determined arms outstretched to embrace the storm. The wind whips my body down like a rag doll in the hands of an angry child. I crumble to the ground suddenly as lightning strikes, blinding my eyes and leaving me starring into white space. I am fully alive when I am in the storm, senses tuned to the powers that rage against me. I feel excruciating pain—a proof of life--a willing victim of God’s hand.

There will be sunshine again. But right now it is storming, and I need to dance!