I heard the sound of thunder last night, after I’d turned out all the lights and gone to bed. At first I wasn’t sure, thought it might be the sounds of a freight train starting to move out after holding for a while on the rails a quarter-mile away. Even when I’d heard it a couple more times, I wasn’t sure. But then there came a slightly louder rumble and I was convinced; it was thunder.

I got up to see if it was raining. That’s something you do when it’s been a bit of a dry spell.

The dog trotted down the hall with me as I walked to the front door and flipped on the outside light. I could see the dark dampness of the driveway and a shine on the car. I looked up the street and could see that although things looked wet, there was no sign of rain falling through the glow of streetlights and porchlights. It might have been misting but I could see that it was definitely not raining hard. Layla and I headed back to bed: hers on the floor and mine not on the floor.

I wasn’t hoping for a downpour but I did think a good slow rain all night might be a pretty good thing. A bit of a banking up for spring, a replenishing of the deeper needs of the soil.

I woke this morning to a faint pale blue breaking just above the trees and a hint of light rising in the east. There was the least hint of pink already starting to show. A clear day dawning after the storm. I thought about thunder and wondered how dry it has to be before the rumbling of a storm seems like a good thing. Many a blessing has come in the midst of things we usually run from and even a bright day’s forming may bring trouble of some sort.

When we look beyond the day to the One who has made it, we may find grace and give thanks for all that He has made.

H. Arnett
2/2/16