She could see the storm. Really see it. Accusations flew her way, taunting her that she was living on a dream and a prayer. Ignoring the headwinds. The clouds tumbling towards her. Determined to step out as if the sky were simply very blue. But she was not naive. Of course, she did pray. How could she have the strength she needed otherwise? But the dream? No. She was too pragmatic to pretend. Because, you see, it's not that she was not prepared to acknowledge the storm's wrath. Rather, she knew she could face it. Call it down. Stand her ground. Cry out with thundering authority, "Be Still!" and the winds would have no other choice than to obey. It's what her King would do. And so, she did.  She garnered the strength that was inside her and called the heavens down. The winds careened against her words and ceased to be. And the clouds? They melted into crystal drops, falling like gentle kisses into the sea beneath her pale feet.