"The rain fell, the rivers rose, and the winds blew and pounded that house. Yet it didn't collapse, because its foundation was on the rock. " 
Matthew 7:25

Belief and unbelief wage an invisible war within me. Moment-to-moment tides of the battle move back and forth in a tug-of-war over my hope and my soul. 

I find the structure shakes in the earthquake but the foundation holds. I’m not sure how, but it holds together. The rains haven’t washed the house away, but I find myself in the pouring rain, covered in mud, and laboring on to salvage and restore what’s been broken. This is not a process done without groaning and looking up to the sky indignant that He has allowed this storm. Sometimes I wonder if the rain, wind, and thunder are so loud that they drown out my cries. This storm is so big, so loud. A heavy, flooding downpour.

Does He hear me with my fist to the sky, weeping? Does He see me sopping wet in this trench digging the house He’s told me to through tears?

I believe He does, but I am still cold and trudging through mud. He has not changed this. He has not dried up those clouds and quieted the thunder.

Yet, through the rain I see His help approach. I find I am not completely alone out here in the storm. 

A friend has joined me to dig the trench with baskets of laundry picked up, washed and returned perfectly folded.

Another appears beside me to lay the brick of organizing my home. 

One has made a smoothie run knowing I need some sort of sustenance in the middle of my day.

Many hands repair the frame as they lift the wall of childcare for my children and drop off dinners.

Others have been busy gardening despite the storm, sitting with us, and crying with us.  It often seems as if the storm has taken away any progress made, but they will return later this week to continue. 

A table has been built to host the special and blessed breads of the corn and banana variety during a quick respite under the rain cover.

All of a sudden I see a pile of tools appear with the names of all three of my children engraved on the necklaces, bracelets and rings I now wear. 

Others far off text and call to tell me the storm is still raining there as well and that we haven’t been forgotten, they send supplies of books, food and prayer. 

When I find myself hopeless that the house will stand and be finished, I’ve picked up the phone and within minutes an entire crew of laborers show up to reshingle the roof of my faith. They offer the shingles from their own home and allow me to sit while I watch them.

All of these laborers have tears on their faces and some are shaking their fists at the sky in faith with me. 

He hasn’t stopped the storm the way I have wanted Him to, but He has arrived repeatedly into my suffering because His people have been taught by Him to run into this suffering with me.