Early on the morning of July 4, 2014, the center of tropical storm Arthur swept across eastern North Carolina, packing high winds and heavy rain. In the wee hours, the man stood in the shelter of the back porch watching the roiling clouds overhead for signs of a tornado. Powerful gusts howled through the treetops, sending leaves and small branches spinning to the ground. Bands of torrential rain contributed their din to the commotion. Pepper stood looking worriedly up at the man. He whimpered and crowded close to his master’s feet. The surrounding turmoil left him feeling insecure, but he trusted his master to fix the chaos.  

The man felt very small and helpless. He awakened the woman. “It’s getting pretty rough out there,” he said. She committed the storm to her Master and promptly went back to sleep. To be transported from dreamland to glory in the funnel of a tornado didn’t seem like such a bad thing to her.  

The next morning the sun broke through the scattering clouds to smile on the rain-drenched earth. Pepper was taking a nap on the porch, and the woman was still buried under a mound of covers, finishing a restful night. Pepper might think his master made the storm go away and put his world back in order, but Pepper’s master knows he is much too weak and small to be worthy of such trust.  

The man bowed in worship before the God of the universe within which last night’s storm was nothing more than an imperceptible rustle. His faith was inspired, and his resolve was settled to cultivate simple trust in his Master.  

Carest thou not that we perish?  
How canst thou lie asleep,  
When each moment so madly is threatening  
A grave in the angry deep? 
—Mary A. Baker (#219 in Life Songs 2) 

From Paws on My Porch, by Gary Miller
© 2015 TGS International, PO Box 355, Berlin, Ohio 44610
Used by permission.