JEREMY JOJOLA

Years ago when I was 16, my father and I were caught in a terrible and intense storm while on a backpacking trip in northern New Mexico. 

The rain and hail were coming down extremely hard, like millions of white nails and the lightning was striking all around us like wicked fingers. Every few seconds, there was a strike nearby. It was bad. 

My father and I were about 50 feet apart when this vicious storm suddenly exploded. I took cover under a tree while my father quickly fashioned a shelter with rope and a tarp. 

I became frozen with fear. I never experienced the onslaught of nature in such a manner. I seriously thought this was the end of the world, it was so brutal.

I was so scared to move from where I was standing and I didn’t really know what to do except to just wait. I didn’t want to move out of fear I would get hit by a bolt of lightning. 

Through a wall of rain, I could see my father in the distance waving at me to come over to take shelter with him under the tarp. 

In that moment, after I sprinted through mud and ducked under the tarp to huddle next to him, I felt protected and fine. I knew everything was going to be okay at that moment, even as nature barraged our place in the mountains with everything it had. 

I was with my father. I was fine. He always knew what to do.  

Eventually, the storm dissipated and we reset our bearings and continued on with our journey. 

30 years later, I carry this memory in my heart as many metaphorical and unpredictable storms have suddenly erupted in life. 

When life gets tough with rain and lightning strikes, there are times when I briefly freeze and don’t know what to do with inner fear. Even at age 46, I feel these inner moments of terror when I overthink and over analyze a problem and feed a storm itself.

During these times, I wish I could look over and see my dad there under a tarp waving me over. I wish I could run over and huddle next to him because he would know what to do in such moments. 

A few weeks ago, this memory of the storm in the mountains came back to me at a time when I was praying to the creator while on a walk around a neighborhood lake here in Denver.

I was dealing with a bit of an inner storm. At these moments, when my father was alive, I would often call him because he always knew what to do.

As I meditated during my walk around the lake, an inner voice told me that it is my time to make my own shelter and wait for the storms to pass, because they always do. 

I am a father now.