Ready for the Storm

Rich Mullins was the soundtrack to my pre-adolescent life. He was a loner. I could perceive that even as a ten year old. His eyes were on fire with introversion; his music, with struggle. But as a child, all I cared about was the fact that his album photograph included a golden retriever. And so we all listened--my family and I--to pained vocals and acoustic harmony. Those were the days when the carpet was stained, rather than the soul. Those were the days when one's sexual orientation was whispered and the listener pretended not to hear. Those were the days when the music lead you to dance and love, rather than retreat and loathe.

Those days are past.

Today, I hear Rich Mullins. I hear him as a 24 year old, with all fantasy dispelled.

The wind cuts deep through the sailor's bones / through the sailors soul / til there's nothing left that he can hold / except a rolling ocean.

Give me mercy for my dreams / 'cause every confrontation seems to tell me / what it really means to be this lonely sailor. / And when the sky begins to clear / The sun, it melts away my fear / And I cry a silent, weary tear / For those who mean to love me.

I am ready for the storm.

The chills begin to start. For I don't know if I will ever be ready for the storm. I don't know if I will be strong enough to weather the turbulence of late-night phone calls, tear-stained parchment, sorrow masked as anger, "I-am-so-ashamed-of-you". But then I remember the storm, though strong, will never be the strongest force.

His feet were calloused not only by nails but by waves. He sleeps amidst the ravages, because He knows:

this is a season.
this will pass.
fear not.