| Finding silver linings in the storm Theres something soul-shaping about a storm. Out of our fear of the whirlwind, hearts beat a little quicker and were allowed to put aside the everyday-ness of our lives. With the recent Tropical Storm Isabel, anticipation was the key. Schools and the federal government battened down the hatches, closing a whole day before the clouds burst. In that proverbial lull before the storm, gutters were cleaned, sandbags laid out, patio furniture stowed and we tuned into the television as weathermen forecast the storms course with astonishing accuracy almost as if technology enabled them to predict the mind of God. At midnight, I stepped onto my deck, into the rain that blew sideways and stung my eyes. I lifted my head to drink in the hurricane, while my dog sat dry, and a little confused, behind the sliding-glass door. The wind raged as tall and rock-steady trees swayed, calling to mind the word humility. I rejoined my dog. Seven doors down from mine, a tree shattered and fell on top of my neighbors house. The next morning she and her husband were out with chainsaws and worries. In Fells Point, Annapolis, Lusby and throughout the region water invaded the streets, homes and businesses. Trying to make sense out of a tree on her front porch and in her bedroom, my neighbor coveted prayers. But more than that, she wanted normal back almost as if she were questioning the mind of God. But for those without trees in their bedrooms, theres something soul-affirming about a storm. A pastor I know believes that there are thin places in the world where God is abundantly present. Some of these places lie in the landscape at sites like Stonehenge, others exist in time, like during evening nautical twilight. From Job we know God is present in the whirlwind. Isabel gave us a taste of that. I find it a little staggering how people responded to the storm. While caring for his people and facing four-feet of water in the parsonage basement, a pastor from Baltimore still answered the phone, Praise the Lord, Gods blessings are good. Other pastors sang songs about the storm. The hymnal is full of them. When the storms of life are raging Jesus, the Bible tells us, calmed the storm. So even in churches where the power was out days after the storm, United Methodists sang almost as if the music of God gave them a soundtrack for their lives. My least favorite part of the storm was the darkness. The loss of electricity created a dark so dark that fear became reasonable. Lighten our darkness, pleads the Book of Common Prayer. That is a good prayer. But during the day, the lack of electricity was translated into no televisions, computers, cell phones, or stovetops. It was quaint for a time. Then, it became like the slogan on a coffee mug my friend didnt have electricity to perk coffee for. What doesnt kill us makes us grouchier, the mug says. How easily awe can turn humdrum almost as if we forget the wonders that lie before us when were open to the mind of God. A few weeks ago in Bermuda, Marsden UMC suffered through Hurricane Fabian, the worst storm to hit the island in 50 years. Only days after the devastation, one newspaper reported, bartenders began serving the Fabian, a colorful, tropical drink with the little umbrella turned inside out. Alcohol aside, this response seems right; a little leaven to lighten the loaf. And now the Baltimore-Washington Conference Disaster Response Team, the United Methodist Committee on Relief, and thousands of people in Isabels wake go to work as if they know that reaching out to others in times of need echoes the will of God. Theres something soul-stirring about a storm. But the best part is the sun, which always seems to follow. | 
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