The Wind

I wake to the sound of wind howling at the windows, begging passage
through my space. I go to the living room. The windows and the sliding
glass doors are shut. I try to push the window open. The wind rushes in
through the crack, at the same time resisting from the outside.

I think of how we are like the wind sometimes. Rushing on and on,
helter-skelter in this mad world where everything must be immediate or
"as soon as possible." And God is like the person inside the house,
behind the window. We're just outside, longing to enter yet resisting
too. From a place of high pressure, we seek - whether consciously or
subconsciously - places of low pressure, places where we can find rest
and comfort.

The little wind that I let in dances around the room, making the
curtains flap. It occurs to me that those moving particles of air are
perhaps more 'free' inside my home, although it is not an open space.
Inside, they are cut off from the mainstream current; not forced to go
any which way, not forced to go where they would not. How we are like
that too, when we enter into God's presence - when we come under His
guidance! Restricted, perhaps, by His commandments, yet at the same
time we have somewhat more freedom for we are no longer slaves of the
world and its ways, but willing friends and servants of God.

The wind howls some more. Persistent. Insistent. I ignore it. If I
open the window, it will be slammed shut by the wind sooner or later. I
turn my gaze to the horizon beyond the balcony. The skies are grey, a
sight most welcome. With the wind, come the dark clouds, heavy with
water. And the rain is here.