Last night, we had a serious wave of thunderstorms plow through State College. Mind you, I hate thunderstorms. At 3:30 am I was rudely awakened by a <<KAABOOM>> that shook the walls of the house; the lightning so bright, it illuminated my room. The wind howled through the canopy of trees, the branches cracking and breaking.
Until 6:30 am, the rain came in torrential sheets, quickly washing down our street. Needless to say I was awake for much of the night. Moments before my alarm was to go off, the storm dissipated. I lay in bed, prayerful; almost afraid to look outside. Then I heard it.
The sound was clear and distinct. “It couldn’t be…” I thought to myself, “not after all of that.” But sure enough! A bird began singing his happy song outside of my window. I was safe and sheltered in the comfort of my house. This poor guy weathered the storm - outside - all night. Where did he find shelter? Was he scared? Was his home destroyed?
His song so bright and happy it was almost as if he was unaware of the storm that just rocked his little world. All he knew was that the rain and ceased, the sun was rising, and he found it – he found a reason to sing.
I didn’t rise from my bed until I sang my song of thankfulness to God this morning. I have so many reasons to sing!
It’s official – I signed the closing paperwork and am an official homeowner! This weekend begins the move-in process. I have been so blessed by my State College family who has made this hairy scary process so comfortable. There is no room at all to question God’s hand in this – no doubt this is where I am supposed to be.
After I signed the papers and received the key, I drove to my new home. So thankful for technology, I face-timed my parents. Together (as together as we could be) we opened the door to my house. I dropped to the floor in thankfulness. 2000 miles away, my parents did the same. We prayed to dedicate the home to the Lord; that it would be His and all who enter will feel His love and presence.
I did it. By myself. This was a huge final step in my healing process. Over one year later, my storm has finally settled. I weathered the storm and found shelter wherever I could. I have a reason to sing. And sing I must. To tell of His goodness and faithfulness. To remind others who are still feeling the shake of their storm that the rain does stop and the sun is coming.
As my mom prayed, she referenced Noah on the arc. He had to do the unthinkable. When few others understood. He weathered a very long storm on that boat full of smelly, noisy, grumpy things - not his family, the animals! He spent 377 days on the arc waiting for the storm to stop. My mom felt that the number 377 was significant (God’s numbers always are.) After some prayer and research, she was right. There are 365 days in our calendar year – from 377 that is a difference of 12. Including today, if you count back 12 days, you would land on June 2nd. To you this means nothing. To me – this was my wedding day.
Going a bit further, the number 377 in the Blue Letter Greek/Lexicon Bible signifies rest. To recline at a table; to sit back to lie down. It occurs 11 times in the New Testament. Not to mention that Noah exited the boat on the 27th day of the 2nd month (in my world this is February 27th – the day my engagement ended).
This might not blow your mind, but it does mine. God’s fingerprints are everywhere. We often ask for big, flashing signs and miss how intricately He has woven every single detail of our lives together for His glory and to simply remind us that He is God.
I am left in awe of the events of today and choose to sing. I understand that when your own personal storm is raging, a happy little bird is the last thing you want in your boat. Rather than letting it “ruffle your feathers” (pun intended) allow God to remind you that one day your storm too will be over. One day you will be able to enter in to rest - to have a reason to sing – just like that little bird outside of my window – just like nothing ever even happened.
Remember, one must make the choice to sing. We all have countless reasons - choose to sing this week. It will be a soothing sound of hope to others much like the little birdy was to me this morning.