Storm poem

The storm clings to the mountain like a strangler

Wispy fingers inching around the neck.

Thunder rumbles

                                Macabre laughing.

Crack of lightning

                Splits the sky.

The torrent gushes down the red clay

                                 rivulets of blood.

Rain tatters the trees’ clothes.

Finally exhausted

                                The storm loosens its grip

Sun breaks through

                drying tears on the shoulders of the mountain.

The indomitable backbone

                bears many wounds,

but the Sun brings healing and growth to the scars

Today as I drove through Virginia a storm hovered over the ridge, inspiring an odd bit of poetry.  It was becoming rather dark and ominous (poem and the weather) and then the sun burst through and reminded me of how God uses our storms and wounds to bring new life and healing, shaping us as He desires.  Living in the Appalachians and seeing how much they have weathered compared to the Rockies or Himals makes me appreciate God's redemptive power so much more.  The big, young mountain ranges like these are raw and rugged, but the older ones like our beloved Appalachians have their scars covered with the verdant green of God's creation.  He has covered their wounds and given shade and nourishment to the land.  This creates a symbiotic relationship of the worn-down mountains and the lush plant and animal life.  This reminds me of the relationship of us with God--alone, we are craggy and sharp, unyielding and only a few relationships can grow.  With God weathering and watering us we blossom and fruit in beauty.

Yosemite last summer

view of Cumberland Gap from our farm