After the Storm

I love thunderstorms - the crack of thunder and the flash of lightning. I love the sound of the rain on a tin roof - it reminds me of my grandmother's house over in Australia. I love the way everything can look so crisp and clear. As if God has washed the grime off the world and all the colors are brighter and the air just electrically clean.

While I relish a good "gully washer" in nature, I'm not so fond of the personal storms. When the winds start whipping at my emotions and thoughts start crashing around my head, the tears seem to wash away all my strength. I loose my anchor and I feel lost.

In the middle of my personal turmoil, I often forget what I love most about storms is how they wash things so clean. As if all the force and violence of the storm strips away the layers of grit and dirt and you see more closely the true nature of something. It's not that much different during times of personal struggle.

I've had a rough go of things lately and I've allowed myself to be tossed about by the storms in my life. But the rain has ceased, the clouds are parting and the sun is peaking through. As it always does.