In the Midwest it's that time of year when storms are a daily staple of the weather forecast. My personal favorite is the "isolated thunderstorm." The first time I really paid attention to that phrase was a few years back during a family vacation on the beaches of Cape Hatteras in North Carolina. Every single day of our week-long stay was forecast to contain "isolated thunderstorms." And every morning the sky was bright blue as far as the eye could see.
In a sense, many days carry emotional isolated t-storm predictions.
This week I was set to have more dental work done. As the anesthetic wore off from having two temporary teeth yanked, cement laid, and new teeth impressed, I found (and still find) myself unable to chew on that side painlessly. Physical pain is the best of storm metaphors, but I still have an entire side of my mouth capable of chewing all the food I could possibly want. I feel confident that with some patience, the discomfort will subside and I'll be better than normal, plus with a much greater appreciation for soft foods.
At work there was an important meeting this week to present to management. Many things can go wrong or right when pricing a product that brings in $60 million in annual revenue. The preparation was turbulent, the kind that can generate thunderclaps of sleepless worry through the night. But faith helped me sleep easily, and the meeting went better than expected, almost peacefully.
On Saturday I got to the gym under a tight timeline to get a workout in, then realized that I'd forgotten my shoes. I had sandals, but the rules prohibit open-toed shoes. My younger self, wanting to avoid reprimand, would've gotten back into the car and missed the workout (admittedly, my older self briefly did the same). But thanks to the many lessons of confrontation that God has taught me through the years, I decided to go ahead and try it anyway. It worked, and no one batted an eye.
There will be rain for weeks around here. I'm a fan of it. The blossoms on the trees are eye-catching in their fullness and color. It's a built-in shower if you're out for a jog. This is spring, a real spring, which drowns out the last whispers of winter.
As usual, the rumblings of thunder and black clouds that may be up there are so much more easily ignored by the thankful things happening down here...
... Mom's diabetes is in remission
... Dena was fired up by a good marketing meeting in Springfield
... the Spelling Bee rehearsals this week were fabulous
... two of my co-workers got engaged to be married
... my car's battery died, but was replaced without any real loss
... the Bulls won their playoff series in improbable fashion
... I get another chance to sing with the Epiphany band
... the stock market just finished another month of growth
... my students continue to fascinate me with their character
... Dena and I cashed in my Avanti's birthday-month coupon and had a rent-a-movie date night
... reunited with a former college classmate who saw my Spelling Bee promo photo in the paper
Each of these small flowers captures the eye so much more vividly than the empty threats of despair from storms. There will be some this week for sure, as with any, spewing loud thunder and clamoring for our focus and energy. The umbrella of a smile and the surety that good things will continue to grow is more than enough to glide through the week with cheerfulness.
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