When the Storm Comes.
Finding Jesus in the Fear and the Forecast
Yes, I’m afraid of the storm.
Fun fact: I loathe bad weather. I am not your “oh yay, rain on a tin roof” kinda girl. I’m more of a duck-and-cover, “Is that thunder?!” kind of girl.
This fear isn’t random. It’s rooted in something real. I lived through Hurricane Katrina, and I’m certain some of my weather-related PTSD started back then. I think that’s where my anxiety really took hold. I remember getting awful stomach aches and pounding headaches as a kid—not out of nowhere, but like clockwork when a storm was approaching. My mom and the school nurse eventually pieced it together: my body was trying to tell me something before I had the words to explain it.
And to be fair, storms weren’t exactly rare where we lived.
Even now, I notice things others don’t. I can smell a storm before the forecast catches it. I can tell by the way the shadows stretch across the floor, or by the particular gray that tints the sky. I know our local weather patterns well enough to calculate: is this just nerves, or is it time to panic?
And honestly… I have the same instincts when it comes to my internal storms.
The missed opportunities.
The awkward conversations I replay in my head.
The insecurities I wrestle with when I look in the mirror.
The fear of what’s next, when next feels so unclear.
I brace myself—waiting for the worst, anticipating the crash of thunder that may never come.
But here’s the thing I’m learning:
Jesus doesn’t rebuke me for noticing the storm. He just reminds me He’s in the boat.
He calms storms I didn’t even know I was bracing for. He speaks peace not just to the skies above me, but to the anxious waves within me. And when I’m curled up, afraid, He doesn’t scold me—He stays with me. He holds steady when I don’t.
So yes, I may still be afraid of the storm.
But I’m not facing it alone.
When the power would go out, which happened fairly often during storms, here are some of the ways we passed the time:
Games: We would play card games, Jenga and other board games by the light of my parent’s kerosene lamps.
Fans: Sometimes we would have to sleep while the power was out, so these battery operated fans would work for a little while.
Grilled Cheese Sandwiches: My parents were lucky enough to have a gas stove, so we got hot supper, but don’t you dare open the fridge more than once!
I appreciated your story here. I grew up afraid of storms so I can somewhat relate. Check out my story, “One Stormy Night.”