When Stormy Sundays Come

        Stormy Sundays in Oregon are pretty commonplace. Any given Sunday can mean dark skies, rippling puddles, and the telltale steady patter on windows and rooftops. Stormy Sundays here come and go, peppered occasionally by the anomaly of a sunny Sunday.

        Today was the usual...a stormy Sunday. I usually enjoy days like this. A native Pacific Northwesterner, I am fueled by the constant drizzle and find a sort of cozy contentment in the eternally gray weather. For me, a stormy Sunday doesn't mean holing up in my room or burrowing in loads of rain-resistant gear. Stormy Sunday afternoons are for pretty pictures, walks, conversations at coffee shops, moments reveling in God's beautiful creation, or just cracking open a window, sitting very still, and listening.

       Because of this, it's funny that the word "stormy" conjures two separate pools of meaning for me. On one hand, stormy has come to mean the sort of Oregon day I love, like what I described above. On the other hand, I'm a true English major at heart, and I can't let go of the traditional connotations that stormy has.

       I guess what I'm trying to say in my ridiculous, wordy way is, sometimes stormy Sundays suck.

       Not every stormy Sunday is a cup of tea and a Jane Austen novel. Not every stormy Sunday is a rain-drenched, lacy-gowned Kate Winslet standing on the crest of a hill whispering "Willoughby". Despite my normal romantic inclinations, not every stormy day is as idyllic as I've painted it.

       Some stormy Sundays (I'm going to start talking metaphorically at this point, as you've probably caught on...) are not so easy to brush off. Some stormy Sundays seem like they won't end. Instead of being beautiful, the rain is dreadful. The thunder is frightening, and the wind sends the wrong kind of chills down your spine.

      Everyone experiences stormy Sundays sometimes. It's as much a part of being human as breathing and sleeping is. The ebb and flow of life will always bring stormy Sundays. Inevitably, as we experience different stages of life, we will also experience the different trials that may come with those stages. As a college student, I will experience stormy Sundays from time to time, no matter what my situation is. There have been times when I've called my mom, distraught with worry and stress, choking on my words as I cry. Storms like this are not beautiful. They may be ugly, depressing, sad, anxiety-causing...the darker periods of life that I have dubbed "stormy Sundays" for the purpose of this blog post are not fun.

      It is during these stormy periods that I must let God be my umbrella. During my stormy Sundays, there are times when I literally cry out to God, begging Him to cover me, to save me from all that is going on. The truth is, His answer to my cries may not always come in the easy form that my human nature wants, but He always covers me.

       And the best part of having God as my umbrella is that no matter how bad the weather gets, He'll always hold strong.











     













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about me


Zoe. 22. Christian. Oregonian at present, Washingtonian at heart.
Always-wanderer, old book-collector, and coffee enthusiast.