After the storm

“He in his madness prays for storms,
and dreams that storms will bring him peace”
― Mikhail Lermontov

(images of spider webs that survived the tumultuous flooding rains / Carrollton, Ga / Julie Cook / 2015)

A deluge…
A torrent…
Wind, hail, lightening, thunder, flooding…
We shudder and we worry,
The waters rise
As the sirens wail…

Tornados
Floods
Downpours…
Pummeled and beaten
On and on it lasts for hours,
Days pass as the assault remains relentless
Washing everything away….

What of the tiny and the minuscule
The delicate and thin
The exposed
The vulnerable
All of which is seemingly fragile…?
Is it possible to hold on, bear up,
remain and survive?

Our life is but a wisp, a flicker of light
Delicate and fragile…
We worry and we fret
Battered and assailed
We can barely hang on…
Yet did we not once think of ourselves as invisible?

Eventually when the storms pass,
the clouds part and the winds are finally still…
When it all is beautifully quiet and calm
We wonder what, if anything,
remains in the wake of the fury…

But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. I give Egypt as your ransom, Cush and Seba in exchange for you. Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you, I give men in return for you, peoples in exchange for your life. Fear not, for I am with you; I will bring your offspring from the east, and from the west I will gather you
Isaiah 43:1-28

Rain or shine

Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.
Lord Byron

(after the rain / Julie Cook / 2015)

It’s a brand new day to a brand new week. . .
Good things and bad things are lining up. . .
Each are headed your way.
Dread and joy join hands. . .
Red rover, red rover, it’s time to come on over. . .
As they each call out. . .your name. . .
Do you go or do you stay?

As the sun rises, raising spirits, possibilities seem endless.
New beginnings are set in motion.
Green lights and straightaways stretch outward beyond our sights. . .
Yet just past the horizon, well past our concern, storm clouds are gathering.

Bumps in the road
Deep ruts
and endless potholes make the journey less then desirable.
The joy dissipates as we fight to keep it all in the middle.
The rains add insult to the injury in the consistent pursuit.
The winds pick up, whipping our hopes and our dreams, into a panicked frenzy.

White knuckled, two handed driving,
as the wipers strain to keep up, fighting the deluge.
Swerving and skidding along. . .barley in control on the wet highways,
while the lightening steaks across the skies, punctuated by deafening thunder.

Nerves now frayed. . .
wondering why we ever got out of bed. . .
someone whispers. . .is this all there is. . .
And just when it seems all is for nought. . .
when we’re ready to throw our hands up and raise the white flag, shouting
“OK LIFE, YOU WIN. . .”

God sends a reminder. . .

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
(Lamentations 3:22-23)

after the storm

“But, my dear, if you should be caught out in the storm!”
“Why, I don’t know but I should like it! What harm could it do? I’m not soluble in water – rain won’t melt me away! I think upon the whole I rather prefer being caught in the storm. . .”
― E.D.E.N. Southworth, Capitola’s Peril

(evening sky images / Carroll Co , Georgia / Julie Cook / 2014)

Driving home Sunday evening, after a torrential rain storm had wreaked havoc for almost two solid hours, there descended on the sodden and wind shattered earth the most delightful sense of serenity and calm. All was now contently wrapped in the quiet cozy hushed whispers which seem to follow such temper tantrums of angry storm systems.

The rays of a setting sun, doing their best to penetrate the parting clouds, were diffused by a myriad of water droplets acting like a million tiny prisms bending and refracting the sun’s light into a vivid display of spectacular color.

Grainy images sadly cannot capture the vast beauty of an evening sky that seems to stretch out as far and as endless as the heavens allow, yet it is all I have to offer—this small token of the world seemingly at peace. . .