They do for me, anyways. There's just something about bad weather that puts me in the zone to write. Some people may think that's crazy (looking at you, Rach), but a good thunderstorm + late night = The Writing Zone.
The reality is that storms are a powerful sign of God's creativity and flair for the dramatic (not the fatal ones though--I'm convinced those weren't supposed to happen when the earth was made).
But really. He could have the earth nourish itself in any other way, but he chose flashing lights and booming sounds. A storm is his stage to get creative and to enjoy bringing new life to parched ground, letting flowers grow, juxtaposing spring liveliness after a thunderstorm has rolled through. It heightens our senses, forces us to acknowledge some kind of creation.
And as someone who loves creativity, I think I'm inspired to action by his action.
Maybe my mind and heart have been blocked up with stress and stress and more stress that's given me weird dreams that have caused more stress, so writing doesn't flow out as easily as it has in the past. But storms have always helped to bring clarity for me, to sit back and see perspective. It grabs my attention and washes away the grime in a great display of tough love. This kind of weather tends to bring me to my knees because I must acknowledge the One behind it all. Only He could make something so good and necessary but so threatening.
Only he can restore within the chaos.
Tonight, I pray for two things.
1. It doesn't storm too badly and my exposed car doesn't have hail damage in the morning
2. I know God for who he is: a refiner who uses raw materials to bring about great beauty.
So here's my breaking of blog silence. Brought on by a late-night April storm. And I'm thankful for it.
