I love Los Angeles after a rain. Everything gets washed clean. It rained so hard last night that it cleaned all the bird poop off my poor little street parked car. And it was a lot of poop. As much poop as can be accumulated between California winter rain showers. (I’m trying to do my part for the drought.)
A heavy rain in LA makes it look like someone washed the sky.
But it takes a pretty heavy storm to make things the most beautiful. As I lay in my bed last night I heard some of the loudest thunder echoing in the mountains behind my apartment that I have heard in the last almost 14 years. The rain was coming down hard and it even brought hail.
The storms of life offer us the same experience. We sometimes have to brave thunder and lightning, rain and hail. We sometimes have to brace ourselves against the coming storm and violent winds.
Every time I see the results of the rain in LA, it’s a gentle reminder that life comes in seasons. Gale force winds and sleet and even flying cows (Twister, anyone?) will eventually calm.
A new day will dawn. The poop will be washed away and a new light will be on the horizon.