Eye of a Hurricane definition: The region at the center of a hurricane about which the winds rotate, but which itself is relatively calm.

 

My father-in-law lives in Florida and had to evacuate when his home looked to be in the path of Hurricane Irma this past September. On a seemingly unrelated note, since my son now lives far away from his family, I’ve managed to survive (so far) as the only male in our household, except for our dog, Murphy. As a result, I’m frequently surrounded by pure, raw, unadulterated emotion. My girls don’t “save the drama for their mama,” they join in their mama’s drama and share it all over the place with their dad. I often live in the region at the center of a hurricane about which the winds rotate, but which itself is relatively calm.

 

Lest you think I’m complaining or poking too much fun, and while I do miss my son terribly, I must say that I’m learning to enjoy life as the calm “eye” in the midst of raging storms, i.e., the Burns girls’ ever-present and widely varying range of emotions. I get to suffer through crying, with or without explanation, along with sisters screaming at each other, mom yelling at sisters to stop said screaming, and various expressions of the “sad” emotion. But I also get to experience a laugh-until-you-cry-and-can’t-breathe type of fun I rarely knew as a child. I get to comfort my girls when they’re hurting and cheer them up and make them laugh when they would prefer to stay mad or sad.

 

God created families and made them special beyond anything I could ever have imagined. The concept of family was introduced in the very beginning, as we see in Genesis 1:28a, “God blessed them and said to them, ‘Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it.’” God’s plan for creation was for men and women to marry and to have children, and I’m so thankful for that plan. Life with my girls is wonderful and challenging; it’s crazy and keeps me sane; it’s a whirlwind and my safe place in this world. And I wouldn’t change a thing.

 

Troy Burns