Traffic roaring always roaring, what would the world sound like if it all suddenly stopped. I walk in my favorite park on tree-lined paths alongside the river. It's rained for days, the sudden sun and deep blue sky seem almost foreign. The park was closed yesterday with water still splashing over its trails. Even today the river is high and fast, kissing the bridges and rushing along vaulted banks. Families pass with children and trikes and snacks. Visiting friends stroll past, soaking in the sun and gentle fall warmth. I'm suddenly alone with the peace of the world. Leaves crunch beneath my feet, birds call from the trees, and water splashes and laps at newly submerged trees. Yet beneath it all, that low constant roar from the highway crossing the bridge two miles back. It's not overwhelming, and it doesn't steal the beauty of the day, but it is incessant. I wonder what silence really sounds like. Do we even know anymore. Is there a world without white noise somewhere and what would we do if we found it?

Life in the Storm

You trampled the sea with your horses, churning the great waters.

Habakkuk 3:15

I've loved storms all my life. The gush of the winds, the massive undulating clouds, and the trees that twisted and swayed in helpless submission. I'd stand on my porch both thrilled and terrified, listening to the distant wail of the tornado siren, knowing it was time to move to safety but glorying in the power of the display. I knew they were dangerous. I knew property could be destroyed and people killed, and I certainly didn't wish harm to anyone. But I couldn't help being drawn to the magnificent power of God and the knowledge of my own helplessness.

I think that may be some of what Habakkuk felt. It's a difficult book for me to understand. Habakkuk begs for God's intervention as he sees the violence and wickedness of his day. He feels abandoned and longs for God to return to nation to Himself. Yet the answer he receives is that God will empower the Babylonians. They will sweep across the world devouring everything in their path and destroying the nation.

A human storm. A destructive power out of all control. Yet the strength of God behind it all. Habakkuk doesn't pretend to understand the answer, yet he doesn't plead for deliverance either. He accepts what will come. He warns his people and describes their own wickedness. He doesn't promise a quick rescue or explain how God will use this trial to their benefit. He just ends with a simple faith that God will carry them through.

The Sovereign Lord is my strength;

he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,

he enables me to go on the heights.

Habakkuk 3:19

June

I love summer. I step out on my deck with an armful of damp clothes. A mower buzzes to my left, and clippers to the front. Birds chirp, a dog howls, and a screen door slams. Is it the sound of others working while I don't have to that gives me such peace? I hope not, that seems awfully petty. It takes about two weeks to really relax into it anyway. The initial rush of summer projects slowly starts to wane. Fix the downstairs bathroom, call a plumber to really fix the downstairs bathroom. Drag around furniture for carpeting estimates, replace the furniture for teenager parties, to be followed by move the furniture again for the carpet installation.

It's the freedom to choose, the clothes that drape pressure-free drying on swing and railing, the laughter and antics of "not quite ready to be grown" kids, time with family and trips across the country. It's the bitter-sweet knowledge of like it or not, they are mostly grown and summer may never be quite like this again.