Spring 2012 Branches

Broken Branches

                The clouds are moving in quickly, billowing and dark with rain. I can feel the temperature drop significantly as the previously light breeze turns to a gusting wind. The distant thunder is not so distant any longer. The squirrels have disappear and the birds fallen silent. All these are clear indication that the approaching storm is going to be intense.

                I gather up the few garden tools around me and head for the shed; the weeds on the lawn can wait until tomorrow. Latching the shed door I head for the house as the first big drops of rain start to fall. My little mini-pin, Lilly, is two-legged dancing near the kitchen door. She is quite concerned that I will not open it soon enough…she hates getting wet…and makes little distressed barks as I walk across the drive.

                Hurrying upstairs I begin closing windows and work my way back down to the main floor. When all the windows are shut, I head out to the screened front porch. Standing there I watch the sheets of rain snake to horizontal from the wind. The mist it forms as it drives through the screens dampens my forearms, making the skin draw up into goose-bumps.

                We have a lot of storms and an occasional tornado in southern-lower Michigan. Mainly the generic types of storms pass through here. The ones that move in steadily, hang around for the expected duration, and then continue their movement eastward. Good rains, nourishing rains.

                Then there are The Storms. Those that make my heart beat fast with anticipation and anxiety. The times when I stand near as I dare to the windows and monitor the skies for changes in color, listening for the rain to turn hard, and count the seconds between lighting flashes and the resulting thunder. All the while weighing in my head when it will be necessary to grab the pets and make the run to the basement.

                All storms end and after the big ones there is usually the fall-out and debris of broken branches littering the street and lawns. The weakest limbs, those that have declined from the lack of nourishment, have snapped off during the turbulent downpour. It is usually those branches that had grown farthest away from the trunk that have fallen away.

Energy was not drawn up from the root; the branch no longer has life within it. It is no longer able to withstand the storms. A pretty clear analogy of how I should live: Drawing life from His strong roots, developing a living faith so I won’t break apart in the turbulent storms that come.