Storm Tossed: A troubled woman finds peace with herself and God in the midst of life's storms. Read Online Free PDF Page A

a woman with a gentle, submissive and quiet spirit, which is precious in God’s sight. She was anything but quiet! She talked all the time, and she had very definite opinions about almost everything. Jackson often joked that she was the only person he knew who was an expert in every topic. And the most unsubmissive woman he’d ever met.
    Rachel knew that submission was God’s idea, not man’s. Men (and women) had simply perverted the beautiful concept of a divine partnership. He was to love her as Christ loved the church, giving up himself for her. She was to be a crown to his head, his support and greatest cheerleader, his best friend.
    The world had taken the idea of the woman’s submission and made it into an ugly, old-fashioned and outdated thing, likening it to the robotic, brainless women in the Stepford Wives book and movie. The world defined submissions as the man just controlling the woman, like trafficked sex slaves or cattle, property of men in strict religions, to be used and abused.
    Jackson didn’t abuse her, physically or sexually, but he did have a firm idea, set like concrete in his mind, of what men and women were “supposed to do,” which included the woman “submitting.” He talked about it so much she wanted to scream.
    Was that all he ever thought of? She was a strong-willed woman, and nobody ever told her what to do! So they argued about it a lot, going around the same mountain again and again.
    Maybe if Jackson’s approach was different, she would submit easier. Maybe if he’d really lead their family, instead of trying to control her every move, she’d cooperate better. As their pastor said once, if he would just lead, she’d follow. Jackson’s idea of leading was her doing whatever he said.
    “I’m not your dog!” she’d shout angrily, when he’d get controlling again. She reminded him of Ephesians 5:21, “Honor Christ by submitting to each other.” It was supposed to be mutual submission, not just the woman’s, she said. And the husband was supposed to submit to Christ, even as the woman was supposed to submit to the husband. And they both knew there were areas in Jackson’s life where he was not submitted to God!
    This just made him mad and he’d justify his behaviors and blame her again. She closed her eyes, fatigued physically and emotionally. Would she never find peace in this lifetime?
    She listened to the wild wind outside and swallowed her fear, threatening to engulf her. She supposed she needed to try to sleep some. She spread out her Hello Kitty sleeping bag, soft pillow, and extra blankets on the air mattress, putting her Ziploc bag of important papers, her gum boots, her purse with her car keys, the LED flashlight, and the CB right by her head, just in case she needed to escape and get out fast if, God forbid, the house flooded despite the stilts or was destroyed in the hurricane. Rachel longed for her comfy bed upstairs with the white comforter.
    A canoe with paddles was outside the back door if her red VW beetle was submerged and the streets flooded. Not that she’d know where to paddle to…the first place she’d go was to her neighbors’ house. She fought back a growing fear, What if their house is destroyed? What if they all die? What will I do?
    She prayed again, trying not to think of the news reports she’d heard earlier about winds possibly reaching 90 mph or higher, storm surges, power outages, deaths, and more. She placed herself carefully in God’s good, loving hands, and lay down after brushing her teeth and hair, and washing off her black eyeliner, mascara, and eye shadow, the only makeup she’d had on all day. Her dark eyeliner was her defense against the world, her trademark.
    As her breath slowed and she began to relax, despite the sound of the howling wind and the rain which sounded like horses’ hooves racing across the sky, Rachel began to dream. And to wait out the storm, as she always waited in life.
    She thought again of Faith, and her