Storms Never Last

When I was a child I was frustrated every time a storm ended. Perhaps because in CO there are an estimated 300 days of sun (the most in the US, by the way) meaning that whatever bad weather was happening that day was almost guaranteed to also end that day.

I would revel in the storms, especially rain with lightening and thunder. They were exhilarating to me. The colors they created were inspiring and refreshing. And the excitement that came with knowing something bigger than me was happening would envelope my whole self. I loved it. And it was always annoyingly short-lived.

Now, at the risk of being too personal without getting too personal I recently went through my own personal storm. This storm did not have the same affect on me as the thunderstorms of childhood. It actually created a lot of fear in my life and was not until much turmoil, extensive pondering, and needed action that it brought about its own kind of exhilaration and awe inspiring affect. I'll share what I learned from it in a minute, but the storm did pass. Though it was annoyingly long-lived.

I recently moved to TX and quickly learned that thunderstorms here are not like ones I'm used to. I have never seen such lightening. I have never heard such cracking. It leaves one longing for the echoed gift of thunder that is only offered to those miles from where the strike itself is fiercely whipped. Honestly, it's a little scary. Luckily the sky-wrenching crack occurs between bouts of thunder and the storms themselves are short-lived. Minutes sometimes even. The rain tonight came down in pelts and the interspersed flashes could be seen incessantly from inside blinded windows. But as soon as I thought I had finally reached a point of comfort with the storm so much as to not notice it anymore I realized the comfort was because it ended. I had a friend want get up and leave where we were to go and play in the storm. I laughed, I thought that was charmingly frivolous. And I remembered how I felt during my childhood storms. Of course, adult responsibility trumped or perhaps fear of social norms and this friend of mine did not leave to go play in the storm. It passed before we even had to leave the building only to resume a few hours later.

I was home alone when I suddenly heard the water dripping so loud I thought we had a pipe burst in our house. It was the rain come back full force. I think the combination of earlier being reminded of my childhood love for storms as well as the romanticized laissez-faire attitude portrayed in the movie I was watching is what caused me to want to explore this storm. I realized that part of my fear was my lack of experience, my fear of the unknown. I wanted to face it. (At first I wanted to photograph it. Then I remembered the pelting rain and so gingerly returned my unprotected electronic piece of equipment to the apartment.) I wanted to step outside and watch the lightening. Then I saw that my porch was no cover for the sweeping shower. I stepped out into it to see if I could see any of the lightening. I loved the heavy drops falling all around me. Two drops would have been enough to make me feel wet due to their expansive splats. It took seconds for me to get duly sopped. I was having fun. There were a few flashes that illuminated the whole sky defining what seemed to be one mammoth cloud as voluminous layers. Though, before I could become soused I saw that strike of lightening with the immediate crack from its whip and it sent me bounding back indoors. Yet, keeping in Texan tradition the storm shortly passed.

Storms never last.

One of my favorite quotes happens to be a scripture in the Bible, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. . ." (2Tim4:6)

It is for that reason I will face the unknown, embrace change, and continue moving whether the storm is enchanting or terrifying, short-lived or long-lived. After all, storms never last.





The following is a photograph I took that is completely unrelated to this post. It is of my favorite trees.....aspens.