Imagine a summer vacation with soft sand, ocean waves, a secluded beach, and a warm salty breeze. It sounds like an ideal place for mindfulness and prayer. My family planned a trip almost identical to this for the entire family. They took away the stress of finding a place to stay and all the booking details so my husband and I did not have to worry.
To be honest, I dreaded this vacation. This was the year my daughter was born sleeping. On the surface, it was a kind and loving gesture to do for my husband and me. The sense of doom I felt began creeping in and intensifying every day leading up to the trip only after realizing my daughter Mary’s 6-month birthday would fall on the week of our vacation. It hurt me knowing I would not be able to visit the cemetery or go to a place closer to home that we often visited when I was pregnant. If she were alive, this half-birthday milestone would hardly be a thought compared to the emotions I feel with each passing month since her birth.
To make the best of our half-birthday celebration five states away from her, I planned to start the day on the beach watching the sunrise, meditating and sitting quietly and peacefully. Yes, surely this is what God knew I needed. I should not have felt so anxious. Without a doubt, God had this all planned and this would be a perfect way to remember her.
Yet again, my anxiety said hello when I heard news of a hurricane expected to hit the day of her 6-month birthday. What am I to do now?
Being in a house feeling trapped, maybe impossible to find a quiet place was everything I did not want.
The rain fell intermittently the day prior to the storm. I thought there was a break in the rain so I packed my little beach bag, rosary beads, and a picture of my Mary before setting off for a walk to the beach for that devotional moment I expected to have.
The waves were choppy. My hair blew in every direction. Within minutes, rain drops pelted me. Here I sat, disheartened and desperate for a prayerful moment to connect with the Lord and my daughter.
I sat there thinking this trip was a waste and this moment was a waste. All I was holding onto was for one moment I could find peace on this trip. All hope was lost as I struggled to sit in the start of a hurricane. A storm hits me when I am already feeling low. Storms…
There is a popular metaphor when speaking of children born after a pregnancy loss or infant loss and that term is a “rainbow baby.” Any future child I have will be considered my “rainbow.” Maybe a not-so-well-known term is “storm” for the baby that died. Mary is “my storm.”
How fitting for this week to have a hurricane sent my way. I felt Mary was showing me her presence and, at that realization, I didn’t need any other plans or desires to be back home or anywhere else. I was exactly where I was meant to be. Exactly where God knew I needed to be.
I stayed seated in the sand, with the rain hitting hard, and unexpectedly found peace during the storm in my life.
Storms can dominate our lives. We have no control over life’s storms. Yet, Jesus will show us His presence and stand with us in the midst of our storms.
I can relate to the anxious, frightened disciples in a terrible storm, doubting their faith, and expecting Jesus to do something to end the storm. I prayed for the week to go how I wanted. Instead, I sat in the storm and felt my spirituality strengthen. Rather than praying for the storms to end, I know to ask for the Lord to be with me and remind me of His presence.
