Recovery From The Storm

Rains and milder temperatures provided blessings this week. Not everyone was eager to claim them, however, given the accompanying damage attendant to several of the storms. It’s been a year since a derecho storm front rolled through with hail and sustained winds of over seventy miles per hour. Some trees were lost immediately while others continued to endure a slow convalescence. Damage is still apparent though it feels like a corner has finally been turned on moving things to a more normal place. It is the story of the last eighteen months for many of us

Perhaps we were too optimistic, however, for the last few days brought hail to keep us honest. While it mostly side-stepped the home place, our vehicles fared less well, sustaining several thousand dollars’ worth of damage. It was pretty much in our face. “Do I have your attention?” The weather seemed to inquire. Indeed you do.

It was not about the damage, the multiple storms, or what we believe immovable and steady in our lives. It is our routines, our hopes, and our faith upon whose presence we depend to keep us oriented. Too much disruption forces us off the paths we hope are secure, sometimes to the extent of starting over. What will sustain us during those moments?

From the looks of the ongoing recovery process, it is all about the smallest of measures that provide perspective. It is new shoots emerging beneath brittle overgrowth. It is swelling buds proclaiming potential and hope, concepts integral to a well-rounded faith. It is annual plantings coming into their own one bloom or flower at a time, reminders that misery need not carry over from one year to the next. “Be steadfast, immovable, always live up to your calling without complaint. It doesn’t mean getting your own way, or granting license to harangue or discount other peoples’ thoughtful contemplations. New growth is always most tender and we should heed its vulnerabilities.

The moisture this week succeeded in bringing a lush character to our environ, atypical of most plains seasons. We will herald it, hail and all, for water is precious and not to be dismissed lightly. As growth returns in numerous ways we will rejoice in the pale blue flax heavy with dew or the symmetry and wonder of cotoneaster inviting the next bout of sunshine.

Poet Gregory Orr offers a glimpse of the beauty we are invited to embrace. “The grapes taste good. I hope whoever grew them and picked them was paid well. The poems in the Book: free as the air they’re made of. What a business: Praising the beloved. What a business: Loving the world.” He goes on to share, “Last night, a huge storm. Branches torn from the maple, plants overturned on the north, spilled from their safe little world, their clay pot with its gallon of dirt. And won’t there be worse? Won’t it happen to the people we love? Then we’ll know sorrow. The branch can’t be put back on the tree. We scoop up the earth and cover the roots — Who knows if it will live?” Treasure each day. (kf)