Face the Wind

My dog, Sam loves to put his face right in the wind. Mostly we see it in the car, with his head out the window. But if the wind is blowing in the backyard, Sam will stand up and stick his face right into it. And he’ll just stand there, feeling it.

My confession: Sometimes, maybe more than sometimes, the stories that I collect as a pastor, the pain I hear of, the worry that people carry, the work that didn’t get done because I was interrupted by something more forceful sometimes feels like wind on my face. It feels like a force of nature that just keeps coming. And I would prefer to cower, to turn my head, to pull my coat (or mask) over my face than face it head-on.

But I am reminded of a Rilke poem,

You are not surprised at the force of the storm —
you have seen it growing.
The trees flee. Their flight
sets the boulevards streaming. And you know:
he whom they flee is the one
you move toward. All your senses
sing him, as you stand at the window…

Summer was like your house: you know
where each thing stood.
Now you must go out into your heart
as onto a vast plain. Now
the immense loneliness begins.

The days go numb, the wind
sucks the world from your senses like withered leaves.

Through the empty branches the sky remains.
It is what you have…

Here is the entire poem. What I hear of this picture of my dog facing the wind, and my confession of wanting to turn away and the Rilke poem is — well, the things that are coming at us forcefully, it’s what we have. And there is no way the wind come without the presence of God. So, I’m going to practice standing in it. Not reacting to it or worrying about it. I’m going to put my face in it and feel it. Stand still long enough to know what it is and where it is coming from.