When I tell people familiar with Montana that I grew up in Big Timber, the conversation almost always includes comments on how windy it can be in that place. The winds blow through the gates of the mountains which act like a funnel forcing them to accelerate as they follow the Yellowstone River. Downstream a bit, the valley opens up and the winds die down as they spread out across the prairie. I can tell a lot of stories about windy days and nights, about how bitterly cold the wind can be in the winter, about vehicles being blown off of the road, about wind so strong that the paint of new vehicles was ruined by blowing sand, dirt and debris. One of the standing jokes in our town when I was growing up was that we all knew that when the wind gauge on the community access television channel read “calm” it meant that the wind gauge had once again broken. It seems that many anemometers cannot take extended periods of winds in excess of 100 mph. In those conditions the tiny bearings in the small units fail and they no longer can make accurate wind measurements.

After a short stint in a slightly less windy place for undergraduate school, we moved to Chicago, another place known for its wind. From Chicago we moved to southwestern North Dakota. I used to joke that I was on my home soil in North Dakota because it had all blown in from Montana.

After North Dakota we moved to Boise, Idaho, a place where the wind rarely blows very much. The trees in Boise are so unused to strong winds that a fairly mild thunderstorm will litter the streets with branches. The air grows stale from lack of movement and pollution hangs over the city during some weather conditions. It was in Boise that I learned that a person can miss the wind. After a lifetime of complaining about the wind, I arrived at a place where there was too little wind for my liking.

A decade later we moved to South Dakota, where we had a house on a hill where we could feel the wind. Our house was well sheltered by trees, and the sound of the wind in the trees was part of the joy of living in the hills.

I don’t know why, but somehow I expected that moving to the Pacific Northwest would be a place where there would be less wind. I guess I imagined foggy mornings along the coast. I was wrong. The wind blows a lot around here. There are frequently high wind warnings and small craft advisories in the weather forecasts. Yesterday the news was filled with cancelled ferry sailings caused by high winds. People who had reservations for particular crossing times saw delays. Those who had no reservations may have to wait a couple of days before the weather permits them to get on or off of an island.

We have learned to zip our jackets before stepping out of the house.

Maybe it is because I have gathered a lifetime of experience with the wind that I am so drawn to the stories of the prophet Elijah, especially the story in the 19th chapter of the first book of Kings where Elijah meets God at Horeb. Elijah was on the flee, after having defeated the prophets of Baal. Jezebel was furious and promised to kill Elijah, so he made a quick retreat into the wilderness, where he became depressed and despondent. The Bible reports that he was entertaining suicidal thoughts when an angel appeared offering food and drink that sustained him for 40 days in the wilderness while he traveled to Horeb.

It was while holing up in a cave on Horeb that Elijah met God. The story reports that first there was a wind so strong that it was breaking rocks. Yes, the wind can actually blow that hard. I’ve witnessed wind so strong that they trigger rock slides on steep slopes. The story of Elijah reports such a wind, but God was not in the wind. After the wind was an earthquake and God was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake, fire, and God was not in the fire. It was only after wind, earthquake, and fire that the mountain settled down to quiet.

It was in the quiet that Elijah finally heard the voice of God.

The story goes on to tell of Elijah meeting Elisha who became his disciple and successor. The work to which Elijah was called was a task far too big for a single person. It was work that would take generations. Elisha becomes the promise Elijah needed to know that his work would continue beyond the span of his life and that leadership for that work would continue to emerge.

The stories of Elijah have entertained our people for generations. They remind me that my first impression should not always guide my decisions. Sometimes you have to listen to the wind, earthquake, and fire before you can discern what it is that you are called to do. Those who are blown about by every strong wind and who change direction every time the wind changes might miss a sense of direction to guide their lives.

One of the things about living on the coast that is different from other places where we have lived is that the wind direction can change dramatically. When a low pressure system is out over the water, the wind blows offshore. As that low pressure system blows over the land, the direction of the wind can change 180 degrees in a matter of a few minutes. We’ve learned to take note of the wind direction when we go for a walk. Having the wind to our backs as we face the ocean can mean that there is a storm coming from the direction we are facing. It takes time to learn about the wind.

Fortunately we haven’t experienced any earthquakes or major fires in our time of living here. We aren’t eager to experience either. Whatever happens, I hope that I’ve learned a bit from experiencing the wind and learning the stories of our people to help me discover what it is I am being called to do with my life.