Flying Through the Stormy Days

I still remember that morning vividly. I stepped onto the porch, wrapped in my favorite cardigan, to discover the world turned upside down. Gusts of wind whirled around me like a carnival ride gone wild—the sturdy branch of a nearby tree bent low, rain pelted my face so hard I could hardly breathe. In that moment, I felt as small and fragile as any bird caught in a gale.

But here’s what stopped me: a little bird perched on the edge of my birdbath, feathers all askew, eyes bright and unafraid. Even as the storm roared, that bird refused to hide. It fluffed its wings as if to say, “I’m still here.”

I thought of Isaiah 43:2, where God whispers through the ages,

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.”

It hit me: the same hand that ruffles a small bird’s feathers in a storm is holding us steady, too.

When Life Feels Like a Squall

You know the feeling—an unexpected setback at work, a harsh word from a loved one, or the panic of a calendar that’s overflowed. We brace ourselves, expecting to be swept away. But grace doesn’t arrive after the storm has passed; it shows up in the squall itself, like a gentle promise whispered in the wind.

I’ve had days when my own faith felt weaker than the gale outside. I’ve paced my living room, prayer tumbling out in half-sentences, wondering if God had stepped away. And then, almost always, something simple reminds me: a friend checking in, a moment of silence right when I need it, or that same little bird—again reminding me that calm follows the chaos.

That’s when I remember Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 4:8–9—not a fairy tale of smooth sailing, but a real-life confession:

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair.”

Rising on Rusted Wings

After the worst of the storm, I step outside again. The air smells of wet earth and fresh beginnings. The branches that bowed low now stand tall, and the little bird—our universal emblem of hope—flits away, free and unbroken.

Storms leave their mark—dented fences, bent branches, frayed nerves. But they also remind us of two truths:

1. We are stronger than we think. Each time life bumps us around, we discover resilience we never knew we had.

2. We are never alone. The same grace that meets us in calm moments meets us in chaos, carrying us forward on wings that may feel rusty but can still soar.

Standing in the Afterglow

If you’re reading this from inside your own storm—whether it’s overwhelming news, a difficult relationship, or that relentless inner critic—know this: you’re seen, you’re held, and you will rise again. Your feathers might be ruffled, but they’re not ruined.

So take a breath. Listen for the quiet, steady heartbeat beneath the roar. Watch for the birds—literal or symbolic—that land beside you when you least expect it. And know that every storm is shaping you, deepening roots you can’t yet see.

— Brianne