Stressful situations tend to bring out aspects of our nature that might otherwise be hidden.
For instance, when I’m planning my attire for plane trips, I always think, “What would I want to be wearing if the plane went down?”
This fatalistic mindset surprises me in a way. I’m usually pretty optimistic. But I also think there’s an instinct there toward sensibility.
On the evening of June 20, as I prepared for bed around 11 p.m., that tendency returned.
The potentially dangerous thunderstorms predicted were gaining speed. A photo on Facebook of an ominous shelf cloud hovering around Bismarck, where my 84-year-old mother resides in a top-floor, corner unit of a large complex, put me on edge. That same system was rushing eastward.
Preparing for bed, I started to reach for my nightgown, but changed my mind, grabbing some sweats, a T-shirt and some socks — just in case. If a tornado were to hit, I’d want to be properly dressed.
As it turns out, it wasn’t an extreme thought. Devastatingly, three lives not that far from Fargo perished that night from the tornado that bellowed through rural Enderlin.
The next morning, as a friend and I strolled through Lindenwood Park among pathways littered with broken tree branches, we ruminated about the fragility of life.
“One of us might not have shown up this morning,” we said, musing over the ferocity of Mother Nature.
My feelings were compounded by another event just hours before the storm arrived: the funeral of a college friend who’d died suddenly, no premeditation or warning. Still in his 50s, he leaves a dear wife and two young-adult children.
So, as the clouds rolled in that same evening, he and his family were on our hearts as we pondered how we might help his wife, who’d just lost her father days earlier. Prayers and presence are a start, but not enough.
Indeed, life brings storms, symbolic and actual, often changing our world in an instant.
Such moments can prompt perspective, along with questions, like, “How can we live more intentionally, having been reminded of life’s brevity and preciousness?”
Our thoughts in these times often return to God, the one who brought all into being, and who alone can bring satisfying answers.
One answer came the morning after the storm as I peered at the images from my newly installed bird camera, wondering what I’d see. Just then, a little brown-capped sparrow plopped into view, grabbing some seeds from the store below. Lit by the shining sun, his presence brought relief. The birds were still hungry; life was still in motion and needing attention.
In the end, only God’s perspective really matters. As his beloved creatures, our job is to try our best to peer through the lens of life led by his beautiful vision. Not every moment will be pretty. The storms will barge in, stunning us in moments, shattering us in others.
But with God’s help and love, restoration will come. Life will begin once again.
[For the sake of having a repository for my newspaper columns and articles, I reprint them here, with permission, a week after their run date. The preceding ran in The Forum newspaper on June 29, 2025.]
Leave a Reply