Somewhere, between asleep and awake, a rumble of thunder caused me to smile and snuggle in the blankets further. Living in parched Kansas, the excitement of this moisture laden gift would not allow me to lazy it away. Up and onto the porch is where my nightgown clad body bounded.
Soaking in the freshness no candle company can copy and feeling a heat-breaking promise breeze across my shoulders, I giggled with awe-filled joy. How this experience has been missed!
My thoughts ran to Noah, and how the earth was before rain’s invention. Scholars say it was watered with the first natural underground soaker system, seeping upward from the depths. Very nice and very affluent, but how absolutely blah.
Us post-flood folks have so much to be thankful for! Let’s take a look:
- Those sounds. Thunder booming, lightning crashes, and the downy soft drops pattering, what orchestra can truly replicate that?
- The smells. When a storm is brewing, the dust carries in a moisture rich preview on its back. The main attraction is coming. Then, it descends, fresh and crisp, briskly clearing the stagnant senses.
- Quenching. One can almost hear the giant slurp as the ground sucks it up like a giant sponge. Our souls do the same, the much waited end to a long, tired season.
- Our expressions would suffer without the sprinkles from ‘showers of blessings’, ‘the storms of life,’ and ‘a thundering crowd.” Lord willing, and the creek don’t rise, we are blessed to paint a colorful word rainbows.
- Greening up. The miracle of a little water to turn our crunchy yards brilliant and, our flowers smile again. And it doesn’t cost a thing.
- A cleansing. Even the earth gets to be the smelly kid after a bit. Everything needs a bath on occasion. An April fresh start. Doesn’t everyone need on occasion?
- Comfort. When scared of storms, my mom assured me that lightning was God using his flashlight to find the flowers, and the thunder was to wake them up for a drink. A lesson in purpose behind the life’s tempests.
Although flood’s point was to wipe out a world of sin, as a sort of cleansing baptism, we reap the benefits of the consequence. Just like the cross. An agent of execution has become the central symbol of sacrifice and promise, confirmation of a down pouring of life-giving love.
After the flood experience dried up, I wonder if Noah stood on his porch in his nightshirt and lifted his face to the blessing.
Who knows? But for now, I’m going to jump in puddles with both feet, dance in the cloudburst, and celebrate God putting us here at this time.
He no-ah’s what He’s been doing all along!