Storms

Yesterday, it was hot and sunny for most of the day (the temperature peaked at 82 degrees - almost 20 degrees higher than normal for May 8). The heat and intensity of the sunlight were oppressive - I am a person who prefers a coastal climate with moderate temperatures and lots of precipitation. I kept thinking that my town's motto should be "zero to 80 in three weeks or less." That's an exaggeration, of course, but it does sometimes seem as though it's winter 3/4 of the year and summer the other quarter. Spring and autumn, my favorite seasons, get short shrift here.

Anyway, in the late afternoon, a storm suddenly blew in. The sky darkened to a slate gray, fat raindrops splashed into puddles, the branches of trees were shaken wildly about in the wind, and streaks of lightning lit up the clouds. The air smelled fresh and damp and earthy, tinged faintly with somewhere-elseness. It made a wild, exhilarating longing rise unexpectedly inside me.

Almost as quickly as it came, the storm died down and then vanished, leaving the sky a dusky rose-violet. Slanting rays of sunlight illuminated a rainbow that appeared in the east between billowing clouds. White-blossomed plants shimmered with dew, wet pavement shone, the tops of trees glowed as though dipped in gold paint. All I could think was O my Lord, you are glorious!

And then I thought, maybe this is how it is with storms. We need them - the storms in our lives - to cleanse us, to deepen our appreciation of beauty, to awaken our longings for truth, for justice, for mercy, for goodness. Our experience of storms makes it possible to rejoice when things are made new again. Maybe this is why God allows us to suffer.