After hearing about the tornado activity down South, I reached out to my brother. They are okay, but I was sorry to hear that Easter Sunday brought such devastation to many in rural communities there–especially in the midst of the deep challenges of pandemic.
Here in Maryland, Monday brought a tornado warning that had us eating our lunches in the basement.
Later, my daughter and I were in the living room as a storm swept up and we watched it through the windows. She was frightened by the sudden thunderous rain and hail. She had just learned the vocabulary word squall in the morning and she got to see it in action by afternoon!
It left me feeling windswept– a reminder of the gales of Good Friday when we took kites out on the greens. Fierce winds followed Saturday.
I preached on Easter about the kite stuck in the tree Friday. We got the kite down, and it flew rather miraculously, but the tail is still entangled.
We are changed by the big storms. We’ll be different from all of this. I’m trusting in the words of resurrection to meet the strange squalls–from Friedrich Buechner: “Resurrection means that the worst thing is never the last thing.”
The skies are gray now into dusk, but they won’t always be so. Thoughts flow to all those in the eye of the storm as another day winds down at the start of Eastertide.