“Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” — Proverbs 22:6”

“I’ll go bring the trash cans in,” my husband proclaimed, “there’s a storm cloud directly over our house.” Have you ever experienced the eye of a tornado? I can now say that I have. I don’t recommend it. When I was a teenager, the movie Twister was released. I became encapsulated by the action, invigorated by the adventure, and heartbroken by the tragic stories and ‘will-they-won’t-they’ of it all. I watched that movie so many times that I knew the lines like I was auditioning for a lead role. While I loved the fantasy, I had zero ambition to experience the realities being mimicked on the big screen. I never would have predicted that one evening, the family I created would be huddled together in bed, under the eye of a tornado, as it was searching for a place to land. The thunder and lightning were both eerily quiet and deafeningly loud, as it rocked and shook our home like a mystery Christmas package. I was nearly non-responsive to my daughter’s repeated words, “Mommy, I’m scared.” I pulled her closer. “Lord, our home is covered by the blood of Jesus; please let this storm pass over our house,” I repeated. Slowly, I began to hear the storm travel farther in the distance, roughly 10 mi, by my best guess. The rain was still steady, but lighter; the consistent flashes of lightning faded, and we began to feel secure again. Then…CRASH! The tornado touched down in the distance. “Lord, I pray it landed in an open field and no one was hurt or lost their lives, “ I whispered in prayer.

The next morning, we discovered the tornado touched down 10 miles from our neighborhood and bumped the side of an 18-wheeler as it landed; our neighbor’s husband was driving it to work that night. He was bedridden for 6 weeks, but he made a full recovery. Though we were huddled up, slumber-party style, hubby slept soundly through it all while KayCee and I entertained ourselves by watching Harry Potter. When I was a child, watching TV and having any light on during a severe storm was considered disrespectful to God. We were told that a storm is God speaking, and that His voice deserved reverence, not fear. It was a universal rule that the proper environment to ride out a storm was one of total darkness (candles and flashlights as needed) and silence, unless praying or singing a hymn of course. In my mother’s house I did what I was told, but I didn’t understand the point of it all, it seemed excessive and unnecessary. Due to a lack of information, I dismissed that practice when I left home…or so I thought. As life took shape and challenges arose, I naturally adopted the quiet posture of storm endurance I learned as a child. I don’t panic. I don’t become desperate or reactive. I don’t become anxious or seek foolish counsel. Instead, I get quiet, step away from distractions, pray, pause, and listen for God’s instructions. Albeit these were storms from a different perspective, what I discovered was that my parents taught my nervous system muscle memory so that I would submit to the posture of prayer during life’s storms, whether physical or spiritual.

Therefore, I ask myself, “What traditions am I passing down to my child to cling to in the midst of her future storms?” Over the years, I’ve been introduced to the concept of Sankofa, meaning “go back and get it,” symbolizing the vital importance of learning from the past to guide the present future; the prayers and practices of Judaism, through the series Chosen; and the ancient Japanese art of Kintsugi, which is the practice of repairing broken pottery by mending the cracks with gold, silver, or platinum. With Kintsugi, you don’t hide the cracks; you highlight them (message). These practices magnify the beauty of tradition, the vulnerability of exposure, and the magnificent fragility of balancing humanity and spirituality, all reinforced by tradition. I long for this kind of intimacy, and I wonder if my child is being deprived of this communal connection. The repetition of biblical practices (foot washing, communion, undressing/dressing the altar, etc.) serves as the ties that bind us to each other and our faith; I understand this now. God never intended for us to choose between laws, traditions, and love; He meant for us to marry them together, creating a chord between humanity and the Heavens that is not easily broken. So as for me and my house, the next time a storm brews, we’re not watching Harry Potter; we’re turning off the lights and assuming the position of prayer, I learned as a little girl. In hopes that someday she will know what to do, no matter what shape the storms in her life take.