It's 10:44pm. I'm feeling the need to write, but it's getting too late to work on my novel or a short story, because work comes early tomorrow.
The weather here in Indiana is finally feeling like spring. This evening, we had our first proper rainstorm of the year.
Pounding, pounding against the glass, the rain came. A few flashes of lightning, off somewhere I couldn't see, but the thunder pealed across the miles.
It sounded beautiful. The pounding of the rain against our house and fields, the grumbling rushes of air coming to fill in the burnt holes in the sky.
I love thunderstorms. I love listening to them, watching them, and looking outdoors after it's all over.
After the storm is over, everything seems so clean, new, and bright.
Yes, the wind can knock things over, and the rain leaves puddles and mud. And yes, I complain about the mud. I'm a farmgirl, and mud, well, it gets in the way.
Yet the wind brushes through the leaves and grasses, like a comb. The rain feeds every growing thing, washes the dust off of buildings, plants, trees...settles the dust back down to the ground, where it belongs.
Storms keep the world, at least the land-locked portions, from drought. We had a drought last summer, and good grief, it caused a lot of problems.
Without the rain, without the storms, everything collapses. Just think of the Dust Bowl. Of past droughts ten times worse than the one that swept a lot of the nation last year.
Where there is no rain, nothing grows.
Where there is no wind to fight against, trees fall.
Where there is no rain, no messy, mud-creating rain, no wind to fight against, no wind tearing at the world...living things die.
Storms in life threaten to drown us, turn our life into a giant muddy mess, the chaos doesn't sound like thunder, lightening strikes all around, and the winds of change, pain, suffering, they batter.
Sometimes the rain is a gentle sprinkle, the stress is manageable. Other times it's a downpour and we wonder if it will ever end. Slogging through the mud against the wind and against the rain is just too hard.
But just like the earth needs an occasional flooding, and the trees need a struggle, we humans need it too. Think of your heroes. No, not celebrities or band members.
Think Amy Carmichael. Theodore Roosevelt. Gladys Alward. General "Stonewall" Jackson. Florence Nightengale.
People who poured blood, sweat, tears, and years upon years of walking against the wind, into their lives and the lives of those around them.
Where there are no storms, no struggles, no victories against those struggles...there are...