This morning at Wyatt’s flag football game, Isaac ran to me and leapt into my lap in one quick, brisk sweep. He landed in this compact little ball that fit between my criss-crossed legs just perfectly. The breeze blew little tufts of his hair into my face and it tickled… I took the moment in, feeling the sun, smelling his grassy-boy-sweaty head, and noticing his little fingers wrapping softly around mine. There was just enough coolness in the air today that it felt like fall was upon us. In the background I suppose there were kids hollering and parents chatting and whistles blowing, but all I could hear was Isaac’s little voice humming a familiar tune he hears on the radio. And then his raspy voice emerging from the hum…
“In the eye of the storm…You remain in control…”
I think those are the only words he knows, so he just kept repeating them. He repeated them enough times for me to actually take note of what they mean. They transformed quickly from song lyrics to transcendent, significant, eternal truth. Words that my soul has longed to hear and believe. Words that came straight from heaven to me through a five-year-old. How amazing is that? How loving and good God is, that of all the ways He could choose to communicate to me in His infinite power and glory, He would choose a little boy on my lap. And a really cute one, at that.
I needed to hear those words because I have been in a storm for about 7 weeks now, since the night my brother died. On a hot, sticky July evening, I got a phone call that brought me to my knees. I haven’t been the same person since. I guess the reality is, I never will be the same again. A piece of my heart died that night with him.
Every day when I wake up, I feel the storm brewing. Like crashing waves, booming thunder, and bolts of lightening closing in around me, sometimes to the point of breathlessness. It is dark and scary and lonely.
He’s never coming back.
These words shake me and echo over and over and over again, all day long. The storm of emotions they bring- anger, sadness, disbelief, confusion, doubt, fear… they are relentless. Like a hurricane pounding and raging in every direction.
But today, Isaac reminded me of the truth. If I’m in the eye of the storm, it is actually a safe place to be. The storm rages and closes in, but it can’t defeat me. Not if I choose to stay in the center, where it’s safe. Not if I hold on tight to the one who will always remain in control of each and every storm.
Thank you, my sweet Isaac. Imma loves you.