Angry Skies

Finally, rain today! My brown and crispy lawn was very appreciative, and I was glad to miss the hail, which was as big as 2 inches in some of the surrounding areas here.

There is something about coming through a storm, especially a summer thunderstorm. You are mired in a thick, hazy, lethargic day, and then the wind picks up, the sky darkens, and then rain, hail, thunder and lightning. There's complete chaos, and even danger. And yet, there is also exhilaration, perhaps because of the danger – a sense that you are caught up in something far grander and more powerful than yourself. The air is charged with negative ions – the very atmosphere is electric.

And then it subsides. The sky lightens, perhaps the sun even returns. The air is cooler, and the danger of thunder and lighting, once withstood, yields life-giving water, and everything is thankful for the storm.

I know many people who are afraid of storms, including my grandmother, who is 92 and not exactly a shrinking violet. I don’t think it is the danger that bothers them. I think it is the chaos of storms that offends their sense of order. Order is good, generally, and we need people who resist chaos in this world. But once in a while, the stagnation of the air of daily living and the sweltering repetition of our same patterns must be swept away by something intense, even something alarming.

As I look back to storms both recent and remote in my past, I know that I am stronger for having endured them, and have learned from each far more about myself than routine could ever teach. And no matter how frightening the lightning strikes or how loud the thunder, when you walk out into the fresh, energized air, you are much more alive than before the rains came.

-PMOS