Something Out of Nothing

"Weathered Moments: Reflections on Nature and Family"

My mind wandered with the river. I thought, “How does the atmosphere and ground culminate

into a substance that can be felt and seen, sometimes in quantities of destruction? What makes

rain, thunder and lightning, wind and any form of precipitation, appear out of what seems like

nothing.”

It takes temperatures from above, on the ground, and in the air to mix with whatever is in

between to create a tangible, sometimes terrifying, weather situation. This is much like a recipe

or favorite cocktail when ingredients come together, mixed, shaken, warmed, or cooled, to create

something solid and new.

The weight of precipitation is equally fascinating. Snow can be light or heavy, making for great

packing snow for snowmen, snowballs, forts, and ramps for sledding, while other flakes have the

consistency of boxed mashed potatoes. Rain can be as misty as a steam sauna or fall from the sky

in drops large enough to crack a windshield.

My wondering weather contemplations ended when we arrived at the ramp to disembark. It was

time, no one really wanted to be ki-yi-yaking anymore.

I recall other times the weather gained my attention. When my father-in-law became bedridden, I

opened the window whenever it rained for us to enjoy the shared admiration of nature’s sound.

Another evening, while I sat in a friend’s all-season room under a tin roof, I was lulled by the

steady rain tapping like fingertips on the roof.

Sometimes, I’ve sat in my car relaxing to the sound of rain. I never mind giving the rain a chance

to slow before getting out of my car. One day while making sales calls, the rain poured like

Niagara Falls. I didn’t have time to wait, and the only parking space was far from the door. I

walked as fast as my blinking eyes could see and was drenched from head to toe. With every step

I took, water squished from the pressure of my feet and bailed over the sides of my stilettos. I

wanted to throw myself in a dryer before presenting myself to the office. But in the end, the rain

worked in my favor. The nurse took pity on me, not only with paper towels, but two minutes of

access to the physician even though I had no appointment.

Much like rain, snow also calms me. Flakes falling from the sky lower my blood pressure with

waves of stillness each time my eyes follow the downward movement of white mysteries. My

mind settles, my heart fills with content, and the rare snowstorm is welcome here anytime.

I know it’s science-based with how the air, ground, and temperatures combine to create

precipitation, but there’s still an uncertainty to the timing and intensity of the result. What makes

it a “light” snow or a life-threatening blizzard? What takes a movement in the ocean from the

pull of the moon and water temperature to produce a devastating hurricane with damaging winds

days later and hundreds of miles away. What makes one storm system on the meteorologist’s

radar appear harmless, then suddenly become a disaster?

Even with all the scientific weather forecasting equipment there is still an element of mystique

and unpredictability and wonder.

The sound of thunder never ceases to startle and amazes me. Our house was hit by a ginormous

bolt of lightning in 2006 that sounded like a bomb exploded under my bed. I thought we were

under attack. Our home shook and my body jumped! While the storm was a tiny red blip on the

weather radar, that one bolt of lightning caught our house on fire and left us living in a rental

home for a year. To this day, bolts of lightning make me jolt like when my sister hid behind a

door and jumped out to scare the daylights out of me.

After penning my weather ponderings early one Saturday morning, I turned on Turner Classic

Movies, my go-to channel. I was blown away by Prophet Without Honor, a short film about Lt.

Matthew Fontaine Maury, a colorful naval officer who developed the first maps that chartered

the ocean’s winds and currents. The timing of his story and my fascination about weather are not

lost at sea with me. This channel really knows how to channel my thoughts.

To experience a visceral response to gentle rain, a blanket of snow or frightening thunderstorm

reminds me of how intricately connected our bodies are with God’s magnificent elements of

nature. God created this earth and atmosphere, as well was us. Weather reminds me that we are

delicately joined.

Once while kayaking on a river with my family in Michigan, it began to rain. The happenstance

of me being in a kayak on a river during a rainstorm surrounded by my family was once in a

lifetime. We don’t own kayaks, and we aren’t river people. So, to be on the water flowing

downstream with gentle, sometimes hard, rain from above was an experience I will never forget.

I felt immersed between two of God’s great wonders: nature and my family.

I want to be an outdoorsy kind of gal, but I don’t like bugs, and I don’t have the wherewithal to

be alone outside. I’ve watched many scary movies with wooded scenes and creepy people

popping out of lakes and behind trees. But this outdoor event was a planned vacation activity on

the weekend my son proposed to his girlfriend. Ultimately, whatever the soon-to-be engaged

couple wanted to do; we did. Because, she is an outdoorsy gal, and so are her friends and family.

While our family has been labeled “indoor cats” we are fully aware of, when in Rome, or

Michigan, do as the natives do, and go along with kayaking-camping-hiking people.

The fun went south when my daughter fell into the river, overturning her kayak. Then my other

son’s girlfriend fell in and neither of them wanted to be kayaking from the start. But they went

along to get along, because that’s what families do. Then came the rain, which wasn’t as

welcomed by others as it was by me. I was dry, and clean, and felt at one with the Creator in that

moment while kayaking.