Weathering the Storms

ISLAND IMPRESSIONS

BY FR. TOM PURDY, RECTOR OF CHRIST CHURCH

I love a good thunderstorm.

While my German Shepherd will disagree with me on every point, I love the rumble of thunder, from the sharp peals following close strikes to the low growl that crawls across the landscape over long distances. I find lightning beautiful; the thick bolts that seem to pierce the earth and the sinewy strands that trace along the clouds. On the 4th of July, all the local fireworks displays were upstaged by a gathering storm that offered an incredible light show on a different scale. Storms are a part of living here.

Thunderstorms also elicit prayers. I prefer to imagine that lightning strikes are benign, striking out in the marsh or on objects that are designed to absorb and dissipate their energy. I know that isn’t always the case. I also know that the heavy rain and wind that accompanies such storms can also be deadly. We’ve had local fatalities this year as a result of storms, and I have lost friends to storms in the past. Perhaps a fear of storms is a part of the attraction, like riding a roller coaster or any of the myriad

I suppose that on some level the recognition of their power and the uncontrollable forces of nature are part of the attraction. They remind me how small I am and how grand this creation we call home is. We tend to take Mother Nature for granted until she shows up with all her power. It can be humbling when that happens. I actually think we need to be reminded of this from time to time lest we get too big for our britches.

In order to understand weather better, I have three different weather apps on my phone. All three are helpful and frustrating in their own ways. Lightning strike monitoring and live radar are the most helpful features. Forecasting less so. I don’t need an app to tell me there is a chance of afternoon thunderstorms in the summer. That’s the predictable part. The unpredictable part is whether or not they will actually materialize. August and September are the wettest months of the year, but it doesn’t rain every day. Sometimes the storms break apart before they reach us, and other times they come roaring through. There’s often no telling what’s going to happen until it does. That’s when the radar bit comes in handy.

In this regard, I wish I had apps like this for the storms of life. We don’t need the forecasting part; we know that storms are always on the horizon in some measure. There’s no avoiding them. What would be great when they arrive, however, is a map to see where they are headed, whether they are intensifying or subsiding, and how we can find our way out of them. I’d pay more than the $2.99 I’ve spent for a weather app for those features. Sometimes we hear the rumble ahead of life’s storms. Other times we are oblivious until the deafening thunder shocks us with its proximity. Life’s storms also elicit prayer for safety and deliverance.

Storms come in all shapes and sizes. Some are loud but move quickly. Others seem to stall overhead for a while. Usually they are relatively benign, but other times, the lightning and the wind seemingly take direct aim at us. These are not the storms I like; none of us like them. They’re not fun in any way. Living at the beach means dealing with thunderstorms. Living life means dealing with storms of this other sort.

Like most parents I taught my children the itsy bitsy spider song, and its words are still applicable today. It teaches us that storms don’t last forever. The rain may try to wash us away, but the sun always comes out again, and we can continue on our way too. Remember that the next time a storm blows in.