What a joy it is to sit in darkness on my front porch, experiencing a late May thunderstorm! It is one of my favorite simple pleasures and I cherished it tonight.

The delicate aroma and late-bloom fragility of lilacs standing sentinel along my front walk spoke to an early spring season’s passing. Rain, first caressing in its gentleness, then insistent as it gathered velocity partnered with lightning that blinked softly, then flashed with insistence. Reminded me of my mother’s eyes when she was angry. While this might have been a difficult memory of my teenage angst, it instead brought memories of our last precious months together.

Thunder rapped in sharp tenor tones before rumbling away in bass echoes. Reminded me of my parents’ childhood description of angels bowling.

I couldn’t help but think how the weather moved in waves, much like human emotion or conversation. We muse, then emote. We tense, then relax. We bark, then snuggle.

Most of all, I was moved to imagine God caring for his creation with sustenance in the form of rain and lightning, greening up all foliage, and his admonition to remember who rules all things in the voice of thunder. What a magnificent reassurance. All is well.