I’m sitting by the window in my ancient dorm room, watching the sky turn increasingly more gray colored. The ominous clouds symbolize a storm is brewing, a “Boone Monsoon” as people say around these North Carolina mountains. The sky was brilliantly bright one minute, and dangerously dark the next. Suddenly, the rain starts to fall, beating incessantly against the window pane and filling the air with an aroma of renewal.
I’m smiling, writing this, because the only thing consistent about the weather here is that it is consistently inconsistent. And it makes me think about what fickle beings we are too. How unpredictable our life can become in an instant, when rain we had not prepared for begins to wash over us.
My entire being screams for consistency. I live by a schedule, I am an incessant planner, and I love making lists. I do not take many risks, and when I do, they are perfectly calculated measures of independence. And yet, at this season in my life, I crave inconsistency and spontaneity. I have recently decided to give God complete control over my earthly circumstances, and it is a daily battle. I want to scream and cry sometimes, because my fear of the Unknown and Uncontrolled is so fierce that it seems to choke me.
And yet, I’m lighter. Freer. Able to determine the will of God by simply giving Him my own humanly imperfect will. Instead of mapping out my future three years in advance, I am learning how to take each day as it comes. There have been major changes in my life lately, that have sent me reeling. And yet, when I sit at the feet of Jesus, open palmed and offering Him my future, he has given me respite. He has breathed peace back into my soul, and allowed me to see His faithfulness so clearly.
So now I laugh when the rain suddenly starts to fall. I beam, watching droplets hit the window and meditate over the learning curves I’ve experienced thus far. I ponder the possibility of pursuing my own individual dreams, finding renewal of heart, being guided by my Maker and letting Him orchestrate my future.
As I’m writing this, the rain has ceased. The sun has illuminated one half the sky again, and my window is a comical juxtaposition of light versus dark. I realize how often I mope into the dark by trying to grasp an ounce of control. I think it’s time to step joyfully into the light.