Storm

God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways;

He does great things beyond our understanding.

He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth,’

And to the rain shower, ‘Be a mighty downpour.’

So that everyone he has made may know his work.

Job 37:5-7

It rained again.  The weather reports were all over it - news about being under a tornado watch - severe thunderstorms.  Warm amoebic colors - red, orange, yellow - wound their way around the map on the television.  Counties and towns scrolled across the bottom of the screen.  Take shelter, take care.  It's coming.  Wind and water.  Coming our way.

We drove through it, my daughter and I, on our way home from meeting new friends - new friends with her syndrome, her age.  New friends for me - other parents - friendly, caring, knowledgeable.  On our way home from a good time with good people.  Through a storm.  Lightening flashed across the sky - long threads splintering against the blackness.  Beautiful.  Dangerous.  Headlights reflected on the pavement; painted lane lines disappeared in the water and reflection.  Trees swayed.  Big trees - rocked and swayed - bending with the gusts of wind.  The storm passed us, traveling north as we headed south.  Home.  To shelter.  Safety and sleep.

Morning felt like rebirth.  Air scrubbed clean by wind and water; it felt heavy, saturated.  The grass, a wet, thick, velvet carpet of deep green, was crowned with diamond droplets of moisture.  Trees stood proudly, taller than before the storm, pruned by the wind, pruned of dead branches, trunks darkened in contrast to the multitude hues of green leaves.

We drove through it, my daughter and I, on our way to a community event - a 5K sponsored by my school.  Through the aftermath.  Trees were down in places, laying across the ground with great rootballs and clinging mud.  Branches lay like litter - in the yards, on the road, in the parking lots.  The temperature had dropped.  It was cool, refreshingly cool, and the sky was clearing, and the sun was coming out.  A good day for community.

I took pictures before the race.  Pictures of flowers and trees - the growing things - the green things - the colorful-spring things.  The tulips bravely held their raggedness up to the new morning sun - torn by the storm - petals strewn on the ground below.  Grace, redemption, healing.  Azaleas shyly opened impossibly-colored buds - a party of brilliant blossoms.  Saturated, satiated, full.  The air, the earth, had been cleansed, made new.  They had been drawn through the wind and the rain, pulled through the storm - like sheep through a valley... And they had survived - strengthened.  It felt like rebirth.  Beautiful.  Dangerous.

Heavenly Father, thank you for taking us through the storms in our lives.  Thank you for rebirth. Remake us - beautiful and dangerous - your children for your glory.