If you were raised the way I was raised, you’d notice the building of dark clouds.
You’d not be surprised by the dark, shifting clouds or the storms through the night with just short breaks in between.
You’d remember the stillness, the way someone would walk towards the porch to check the sky.
Then, turn to say, “We need the rain.”
And maybe after sitting and waiting, someone else would say,
“We need the rain.”
There’d be no dispute, not a word from us cousins. The corn, the butterbeans, the low, wide tobacco leaves needed the rain.
Last week I felt the air become heavy and unexpectedly dark.
There was a complaint, a correction, a criticism. I was caught in surprise of storm. Suspicious of its source.
There was a feeling of being thrown into the storm with no one noticing my abandonment, my inability to swim.
It was work stuff; yet, it was hard.
It wasn’t family storm, not my heart; but it was hard.
Darkness of word, of reactions and of lack of reaction.
I suppose it was needed. Like rain on an early summer evening.
The kind of storm that causes me to get quiet, it’s storming.
I needed the storms.
I needed to be courageous in a way that caught uncaring people by surprise.
I needed to be humble when my pride and hurt feelings hindered my moving forward.
I needed to take a chance, to take the next step and to be uncertain of reaction, but decide to accept it as truth, as needed.
To hush the insecurities and doubts.
I needed the dark clouds, were it not for storm, I’d not understand, truly understand my need.
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
Sometimes God brings storms and we’re thinking okay, I’ll understand the purpose of this heavy rain, this earth shaking thunder or this frighteningly unexpected bolt of fearful lightening…eventually, we think.
We need the rain. We’re better for the storm.
Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/