The storm was rolling in. I could see it from my kitchen windows. The sun was setting, and the dark line of clouds created quite the contrast. Wind slammed the house ahead of the rain. Lightning flashed, and thunder crashed.
I turned off my lights to enjoy the beauty of the storm.
Once it arrived in full force, it would be safer to move away from the windows, but for at least ten minutes, I watched and listened and marveled. It was vast, almost majestic. I thought about other perspectives of the storm. Some people were far enough from the storm, they were outside enjoying a beautiful sunset. Others had just weathered the storm and might be walking outside to pick up twigs and other debris. If a plane was nearby, it likely didn’t look like much of a storm at all from above it.
Storms can be frightening and devastating. Our past experiences impact our anticipation of pending storms of our lives, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually. They might prompt hesitation and trepidation. They might also prompt resolve and faith.
We don’t see all storms coming—sometimes because they are fast-moving and indeterminately shifting and, other times, because we are not paying attention. We can’t control the damage as it happens, although some preparation can certainly have an impact. We clean up and repair as we can. We can get caught in the action of it all—what we can do, fix, prepare, avoid. But some of it happens inside of us, and it’s important, too. When we’re willing to recognize the majesty and beauty, even in brief moments, when we can shift our perspective, we might experience the storms in our lives with a bit more context.
