I love storms. Hearing the rushing, rolling majesty flooding through; staring wide-eyed at the bright paths from the clouds flashing in and out of existence in a moment’s time; soaking in the jostling booms multiplying against the hills — I revel in it.
I mentioned this strange delight of mine at a friend’s house recently, and their dad suggested that perhaps it wasn’t that unusual. He pointed out that often the Bible uses thunder as an allegory for God’s voice, and we moved on to discussing the instances at Sinai and other places.
But that one thought stuck with me. Biblical allegories should be the best ones there are, for the Great Author of all has made both things being compared. So it can be enlightening to dig deeper into them, discovering the facets of Himself the Creator reveals in His creation.
Because thunder, scientifically speaking, is the noise created when air molecules rush in to fill the space emptied by the searing heat of lightning. The roaring crash is the sound of a vacuum being righted. Emptiness being filled. Continue reading
Silver bells has always been one of my favorite Christmas songs. Its rhythm, its imagery, its ease of hum-ability; all making it a favorite. Just its quiet joy, its quiet contentment.
I don’t know precisely what silver bells Bing Crosby was referring to. But I have my own image in mind.
You’ve heard it. Down-town Christmas shopping, the stores all shining with their finery. There’s plenty of noises about: cars honking, the murmur and foot-steps of hundreds, the woosh of a delightfully chilly breeze; but it’s still there. Above all the bustle, above all the noise, above all the laughter and clamor for toys, it’s there.
Just a little red bucket. Just a little silver bell. But behind each there are stories to tell. Of days spent shivering in the cold, of hours spent standing alone; yet still their faithful vigil they hold. But, every day they are there. Continue reading
A cool breeze smells different.
I know that sounds rather strange, but it does. It smells more open, more alive, more fresh. Whispering in your ears of high mountain peaks, tousling your hair as the leaves of pine trees, tingling your skin with the chill of clear streams; it calls forth longings, it calls forth a sense of adventure for the unknown. The inside of you feels larger, more alive; eager to see places yet unknown, to face challenges yet unmet, to run violently, beautifully into the unexplored. Cold air smells of green, of cool browns, and of blue stretching ever across the sky.
But when such a cool breeze comes, nothing around you matches it. In fact, the sun is beating down on dry dirt, and it’ll be ninety degrees again in two days. But the summer is always the hottest right before it turns into Fall.
The cold breeze is a sign. It’s a hope. It’s a promise. Continue reading
I love storms.
Something about the oncoming waves of thunder rolling towards you, the flashes which light up a world both unfamiliar yet exciting, and the changing cadence of rain pattering or pouring enthralls me. Continue reading