Storms

I am not afraid of storms for I am learning how to sail my ship. - Louisa May Alcott

A distinct memory from when I was a child was the long, hot summer days playing on the beach, culminating in the afternoon with big, dark clouds in the distant western sky. My mom would pack us and our sandy belongings into the car to get home before the line of storms would come through to wipe out the humidity and raise the lightning bugs just before dark. We would arrive home to sit on the covered front porch and watch the storm roll in, safely protected from the rain, but still part of the dramatic presentation of hot and cold air clashing with brilliant light and loud rumbles. There was and is no place I would rather be during a good summer storm than on a covered porch to witness the entire thing.

While some seek shelter, or fear what storms hold, I don't. I remember telling someone recently that one of the interesting things about me is that I am not afraid of things. That doesn't mean I don't have fears, because I do. Yet, the scary stuff, the imminent storms, are where all of learning lives. What if we choose to turn away from everything that scares us, or makes us feel uncomfortable? Save ourselves for only the sunshine thinking that it is somehow more valuable than the storm? Nothing grows with only sunshine.

So today, at the beginning of the steamy summer season, Mother Nature shared a storm. I took it as a metaphor, although I am pretty sure she didn't plan it to be metaphorical or just for me. Today there were some things in my path to be afraid of, like lightning and wind, doubt and confusion, thunder and blinding rain, fatigue and misunderstandings. They have a purpose, even when I don't know what that purpose is. Maybe the purpose is to grow flowers. Maybe the purpose is to grow me. I will never know what it is if I hide inside. My advice? Whenever you are faced with a good storm, pull up a front row seat on the porch and welcome whatever it wants to show you.