There is something to be said about a good, strong thunderstorm.
I love them! For me, the storm gives me peace. I feel comforted by Mother
Nature when the wind picks up and the rain starts to make its way across the
field to my yard. I love watching it, anticipating the first drops before they
fall on my upturned face. The wind embraces me, sometimes gently and
comforting, and sometimes with a strength I needed but couldn’t pick up on my
own. The flash of the lightning sparks an energy in my soul. The thunder soothes
my spirit when it rolls in the distance, and it excites my spirit when it cracks,
loud and strong, just over head.
The storms in our lives do not bring peace. Our life storms
sometimes come at us with a vengeance, raging in fast and suddenly, leaving us
broken and desolate when they are finished. Sometimes they come in gradually,
giving us fair warning before drowning us in the flood and leaving us heavy
with the weight of the heavy rains.
This year, in the month of June, we had so many storms. Beautiful
storms! High winds, some hail, thunder that shook the very soul, lightning that
lit up the sky as far as the eye could see, and sheets of rain flowing like
waves across the fields. They soothed my soul. The trees did a dance, taking on
a life of their own under the music of the strong winds. The rain was like a
song, comforting and calming. They were perfect storms. Little did I know they
would have to hold me over for my own storms that would come the following
month.
July was the month of my personal storms. It was also the
month when very few natural storms came to comfort me. But, they did come at
the right times, thankfully.
Some storms came in gradually, tormenting me with their approach.
I felt helpless to get out of the way, and they poured on me sickness, sorrow,
disappointment, pain, and rage. Others hit me suddenly and without warning,
like a tornado dropping from a clear sky, rocking my world and leaving me completely
destroyed inside.
Yes, storms are beautiful. They clear away things that are
cluttering our lives, and they cleanse us with the floods, so we can emerge
from them and rise as a new person. But, they are a beautiful disaster. They
are not meant to be gentle. They hurt. They break away the things that we have
carried for too long, and they blow us over, knocking us down to crack open the
hard shell we didn’t even know was covering our soul gradually, over time. It
hurts. It really hurts to be put through a storm. Sometimes storms blow away
friends and people in our lives whom we believed were going to stand by us in
even the strongest winds.
Storms don’t define us. They refine us. Storms are going to
come. There is no way to stop them. It is what we do with ourselves when the
storm comes, and when it passes, that defines us. Some storms will break us. I
have often thought I would never repair myself from the damage of a life-storm.
But the beauty in the disaster is when we allow the storm to blow away the
rubble, wash away the dirt and grime, and stand firm, cleansed and free. Raise
your hands and face to welcome the rain. Open your arms for the embrace of the
wind. Let the thunder shake off the crud from your heart and soul. Bask in the
energy of the lightning. And, when the storm is over, breathe in the fresh air.
If you were knocked over, stand up. If you were still standing, take your first
step. Be it good, or bad, there is just something about a storm.
Now, the next storm that Mother Nature brings your way, take
some pictures, record some video, and feel the cleanse that the earth is receiving.
And when you have a life-storm come, you can look at those memories of nature’s
finest and hold on, because you will be as the earth when it passes. Cleansed,
refreshed, and more beautiful than ever.
