This past week, most of the country experienced a severe heatwave with temperatures soaring into the triple digits. With the heat index, it felt even more intense. Where I live, these kinds of extremes are uncommon, so when they happen, they hit hard.
That evening, a severe thunderstorm swept through the area. A warning was issued, and within moments, we experienced strong winds, thunder, lightning, and sheets of rain. It didn’t last long, but the damage did. Power poles were snapped and left hanging across cars. Trees were split or uprooted. Branches landed in yards, blocking driveways and leaning against power lines. There was nothing to do but ride it out and see what was left behind.
That night made me reflect on something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately—how some trees break under pressure while others bend and bounce back. Because the truth is: a storm is coming on the horizon of your life.
Photo by Sydin Rahman on Unsplash
Some of you can already sense it. You notice signs on the radar—stress building at work, tension in your marriage, uncertainty about your future. You’re preparing for impact, doing your best to get ready, hoping the damage won’t be too severe. Others are already caught in the thick of it, caught off guard, overwhelmed, watching as carefully laid plans fall apart. And for some, the skies look clear… but if life has taught us anything, it’s that storms don’t wait for an invitation.
The truth is simple: we’re all either coming out of a storm, in the middle of one, or getting ready for what’s next. Still, too many of us act as if the storm isn’t approaching. We prioritize comfort over strength. We spend more time avoiding uncertainty than preparing for what we’ll need when it hits.
Most of us resist what we cannot control.
I know from my own experience that whenever I feel like I’m not in control of something, I try to resist or avoid it altogether. I don’t think I’m alone in this. Whether we see ourselves as “control freaks” or not, we all have this instinct to push back against uncertainty. We want to believe that if we plan carefully or stay busy enough, we can keep chaos at bay.
But here’s the tension: the more we resist, the more exhausted we get trying to carry something we were never meant to hold. We aren’t made to outrun storms—we’re made to endure them.
That’s what makes the palm tree so remarkable. In hurricane-force winds, while oaks and pines break apart, the palm tree bends—sometimes almost in half—and then springs back. Why? Because it was designed to give. Its trunk isn’t solid wood; it’s a cluster of vertical fibers that allow it to bend. Its fronds don’t cling—they release when the wind becomes too strong. It doesn’t fight the storm. It leans with it.
What if true strength isn’t about standing stiff, but learning to bend?
Resilience doesn’t start with force. It begins with surrender.
Not the kind of surrender that means giving up, but the kind that says, “I don’t have to control everything to stay standing.” It’s about letting go of what you were never meant to carry in the first place. That’s how we learn to lean with the wind instead of fighting it. That’s how we endure pressures that would snap someone else in half.
Storms don’t interrupt life; they reveal how we’ve been living it. And whether we like it or not, they’re part of the journey. The question isn’t if they’ll come; it’s whether we’ll be ready to bend when they do.
Growing up in Kansas, I learned this early: we faced constant storms from spring through fall. The summer storms were the most intense—loud, wild, and unpredictable. Living in a mobile home, I always harbored a quiet fear that I might experience a Wizard of Oz moment.
But here’s what I’ve learned: storms come and go. Some cause heavy damage, while others just bring rain. Either way, you learn to pause, assess, and adapt. You don’t cancel life every time clouds roll in; you just know how to respond.
The same is true now. Not every storm will destroy you, but each one will reveal something: where you’re grounded and where you’re not. So, the real question isn’t whether the storm will come, but whether your life is prepared for it. Do you have the inner strength to hold on? Do you know how to lean on others, how to rest, how to let go when needed? Or are you still trying to stand tall on your own?
Resilience begins with facing reality.
You cannot prepare for something you pretend isn’t coming. Yet, many of us try to live as if tough seasons are optional or something to avoid—like the goal is to reach a life without struggle. But storms are not proof that something is wrong; they’re proof that you’re alive.
When we view storms as rare exceptions, we’re often surprised, discouraged, or ashamed when they happen. But if we expect them—if we plan with them in mind—we adapt without breaking. That doesn’t mean living in fear or walking around ready for disaster. It means living aware, grounded, honest, and focused on what truly sustains you. Storms aren’t personal; they’re part of the process. And the moment we stop pretending otherwise, we start building real resilience.
We don’t get to choose whether the storm will come, but we do get to choose how we respond when it does. Will we let our energy be drained by resisting what we cannot control? Or, will we learn to lean into the wind, let go of what’s unnecessary, and respond with wisdom and grace?
This is the first step in building resilience: learning to live like a palm tree rather than an oak. Both are rooted, but the palm tree is flexible, bending without breaking. It’s designed not to avoid the storm but to withstand it when it comes.
Here’s what I want to leave you with:
- Where are you feeling the pressure building in your life?
- What storm do you feel is building, or what storm have you just come out of?
- Are you resisting or leaning?
I’d love to hear what’s going on in your life. The truth is, we truly are in this together. If nothing else, take some time to reflect on this, even if you don’t respond. Resilience begins when we are honest and aware of ourselves.
