As I sit here, outside at RTS in Orlando, a thunderstorm is finishing up rolling through.  The sky is brightening, the frogs are croaking, and the tropical vegetation looks lush and green.  It’s a good day to be alive.  The remains of the rain are dripping off the roof into the dirt in that slow, patternless but comforting pitter-patter, backed by the measured dripping onto the tin roof.   The thunder still interrupts with loud punctuation, but I see the light of the sunset off in the west.  At the end of a full day of class, it’s peaceful.  Nobody else is around.  Just me and God’s beautiful creation.

I thought about drawing some spiritual parallel to all this – how God is with us in the storms of life (too cliche), how God’s voice is like the thunder and He rides on the wings of the wind (taken from that lovely poetry found in the Psalms), how light always comes after the dark night of the soul.  But somehow, those all actually take away from the beauty of just sitting, listening, looking.

So here I sit, delighted.