Storm season is officially upon us.
Last night we had our first round of thunderstorm-hail-strong-winds-flash-flood-tornado warnings. (The kind of evening that has the storm chasers all atwitter!)
We kept an eye on the radar as we prepared dinner. My son has been experimenting with some curry dishes, so he was eager to continue cooking while we watched what was brewing outside.
My husband was "monitoring" from the front porch. (Let's just say he has an "appreciation" for storms that turn the sky that peculiar greenish hue.)
We spent some time comforting Katie in our storm shelter/closet while sirens blared and rain swept against the house.
Then it suddenly became still.
We all came out to finish our rice bowls, meandering from window to window to peer at the marvelous light chasing after the storm. Gradually, we spilled out of the house to investigate further.
We played a little barefoot frisbee, occasionally stopping mid-catch to savor the spectacle in the sky of these unusual clouds.
We kept taking pictures, then sighed as we realized we couldn't quite capture the unique beauty of the spectacular sky.
The temperature had dropped and my feet were wet, so I scampered back inside...only to be called out moments later by my son to see the "cotton candy" cloud.
One singular swath of cloud was pink, and, did indeed resemble a wispy bunch of cotton candy.
I'm always amazed at the rapid shift from anticipating a storm, hunkering down through the worst of it as it batters noisily all around us, then the eery quietness that settles over everything. Usually afterward we take a brief damage assessment to see what the wind blew down/away and exchange "we're okay; how are you?" texts with family/friends.
Last night this post-storm interlude was prolonged by the unexpected show the clouds were putting on for us. The unique formations and colors captivated us. Neighbors traipsed out of their homes, also trying to capture a good photo.
The "awe" inspiring part of the experience lingered with me long after it was dark and our attention had turned to other things.
Social media was flooded with similar cloud images to what we had taken. Initially, I thought it was because we were all desperate for entertainment and discovering that this unique display was called mamammutus clouds. Upon further reflection, though, I think all the interchanges throughout the storm and the mutual appreciation of the "after-party" clouds were a way of connecting us together in a collective experience, a reminder of the community we share and the sense of belonging we miss.
Like these tulips battered by the thunderstorm, we may all be feeling a bit bedraggled by the impact of this ongoing coronavirus storm.
Yet we still have hope.
The Lord provides shelter and refuge, whatever storms may come.
We have to trust Him and move forward patiently in our faith, accepting these glimpses of the beauty He still has in store for us despite the storminess of life.
- - - just as He's got these peonies designed to blossom for us in May.
"Yet when they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, the Lord brought them out of their distress. He calmed the storm and its waves quieted down. So they rejoiced that the waves became quiet, and He led them to their desired haven. Let them give thanks to the Lord for His gracious love and for His awesome deeds on behalf of mankind." Psalm 107: 28-31