Stormy weather

Another spring, another beginning, another set of Texas storms blowing through. The beauty here is in the simplicity. The land is flat, you can see for miles, stand on your tippy toes, and you can see twice as far. I love watching the thunderheads build. Billowing, passionate white clouds tinged in grey. It's almost as if they are stretching, trying as hard as they can to hold back the raging storm within, we all know about those, don't we? I love the moments just before breaking, the wind howls, the trees sway, and everything takes on that pre storm glow. Drop by drop the slow fury falls, deliberate, distant, until the watershed breaks and the sky pours. I feel like a storm a lot lately, slow, steady, deliberate, just waiting for the right moment to burst. The question then becomes, when is the right moment? Do the clouds care if the earth is ready to be drenched? Do I care if the earth is ready to be drenched? Have I stopped pouring myself into life because I am afraid of how I will be received? Do the drops of rain not find the path of least resistance? Do I still look for that path? Have I stopped looking for a path and settled in a calm quiet place where storms no longer rage. I know, we all find that place where we stop and rest and find the stillness in the storm, but there are certain times in life when we are the storm, we are the front, pushing everything near us away, reaching and taking the world in handfuls. Then there comes the silence again, a storm is momentary, puddles fade, the ground is thankful, and the temporary insanity of the storm passes and life resumes....