A storm is an obvious point of an enforced waiting. The sounds from today are not from the storm itself but from the rail system in England which seems to curl up and die during bad weather. I went into London on that day for the sole reason of observing what happens. More than frustration, most people were just resigned, staring blankly at the columns of trains marked, CANCELLED.
Storms have formed powerful backdrops to stories and narratives because they throw so much into chaos that the characters truly, strive and grasp towards some meaning. And there are the storms in our lives, internal storms that unbalance us, throwing us off course, deconstructing us.
The story of Job in the bible is a story of three storms. A storm kills his family (part of a long line of disasters, that he goes through), he faces an internal storm, questioning everything there is to question and God answers him in another storm, seemingly telling him off but declaring Job as the ‘righteous one.’
Storms are about ‘disorientation’ (Brueggemann) and they form a rather violent part of the idea of waiting where you don’t know where you’re heading, you don’t know what happens after the wait; you don’t even know that you’re waiting.
The outsides signs might seem calm and ordered as the announcements at the stations but it is a waiting in disorientation, waiting for this storm we ignore or no longer notice, to pass us by or more frighteningly, speak to us.