Fear of Skies Around Me.

Clouds hung, fat and wallowing, gathered together like old women in a market square.
But He did not notice.
As the air built to a fever of sweat that collected on my neck and slid like a single wet finger in a line down my back, His eyes were closed.
Moment by moment the colors in the heavens changed. I'd watched all afternoon as the sky turned from liquid peach to burnt sienna and then grew dark.  So dark. As if the hands of God wiped his canvas clean of the summer blue and replaced it with bruised clouds threatening to cry the tears of a thousand rains. And cry they most certainly would. I watched the sky draw itself up, build layer upon layer and then...
Silence.
The stillness before it broke.
And still He slept.
Thunder came from the very belly of the earth, but He did not wake.
He lay there asleep while the sky split itself in two above His head.
Only I cried out.

And when He heard my voice He opened one eye, reached out a slow and steady hand and said, "I have not left you. I am not moved by storms. Do not fear because you are not alone."
Then I knew.
While I watch storms and shudder in the aftermath of thunder as the skies spill from above, He listens only for me.
The storm did not move Him to wake. I did. My cry. My fear. Because I am His.

So I did as He does.
I curled up beside Him. I wrote. I laughed and loved. I ate and lived. And I slept.
Because you can.
If you are not alone.
You can.


What about you? Who sees you through the storms? Who stills your fears?