Luke 8:25b Jesus Calms the Storm

He got up and rebuked the wind and raging waters: the wind subsided, and all was calm.

It is rare that we notice a storm, from the depths of the lake. Oh, we have our currents and our tides: the waters in which we live and breathe hurl us one way or another, in unexpected directions at times. But the winds which churn up the surfaces rarely trouble us. They are like wrinkles far above.
This storm, though, was strong enough to twist fronds and scatter rocks even on the lake floor. We were rocked, tossed, turned, as though the lake itself was twisting upwards, splaying itself out into the air above our world. As if - I almost wondered - as if it was trying to upend one of the boats that flailed and shivered above.
When it stopped, it stopped suddenly. Not like a natural gale, blowing itself out. No, this was like a performance of an opera, brought to a sudden close by the conductor: so that in the tingling silence afterwards you were aware of the strength and passion of the final note. And the lake waters subsided almost sullenly, as if they had been matched, then outdone in strength.
I always wondered what it was, that could come from beyond the sea and produce such a calm. A calm, a quiet, stronger and more striking than the noise of the storm.