The God of Thunder

After the rain had stopped, or at least paused, Randa and I got into my small pickup and headed over to Winfield, about ten miles away from our new house in Arkansas City. Dark clouds still filled the sky and there was an occasional sweep of raindrops across the windshield. Nothing like the downpour we’d had just an hour or two earlier.

She had spent the day fighting the grime and grit of at least ten years of neglect in the house we’re buying. It’s hard to imagine how someone could let an oven get as nasty as this one was. I can understand the gunk that builds up behind a refrigerator. I mean, what difference does it really make? Well, yeah, it’s going to run more and use more electricity because of all the dust and dirt accumulating on the condenser coils, but other than that, so what? Nobody sees it and it doesn’t affect the food, safely tucked inside, and separated by layers of insulation, sheet metal and plastic lining. The oven, though? Totally different. Direct, non-separated proximity to the food you’re going to eat. And, it’s just plain nasty looking.

So, Randa was tired from a long day of grime-fighting and I was tired from a long day of…, well, administrative stuff. Neither of us felt much like cooking anything and we’d been wanting to try out Montana Mike’s Steakhouse over at Winfield.

So we did.

It was a good call. After we’d finished our meals and lingering conversation, we walked outside into the parking lot. A lot of dark clouds still scattered across the eastern sky but there was the low end fragment of a double rainbow. The colors were a bit muted but still refreshing.

As we drove back south toward Ark City, the setting sun flamed distant clouds. A thin rim of platinum glowed from their edges while the main parts burned red and orange. Against the backdrop of grimly dark splotches, the spectacle made a visual oasis in the western sky.

In the midst of our darkest moments, in the eye of the storm and even in the forming turmoil, the glory of God still shines in the world. But we must look in the right direction in order to see it. The God of Thunder and the God of the Rainbow has never forgotten His promises.

H. Arnett

About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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