Sometimes the greatest beauty is in the darkest storm. ~ A. L. Jackson

A beautiful storm?Who lived through a hurricane, a tornado,
a hailstorm and carries the impression of a beautiful storm?
May, 1970, I woke in Brownfield, Texas. The newspaper
hadn’t come, the radio station was only a buzz, and the sky?
The only green sky I’ve ever seen. When I reached work,
I learned a tornado had inflicted severe damage on Lubbock,
forty miles northwest. I remember the remarkable sky.
I wonder how many who had Stage 5 tornado damage
or hail recall it. But it was beautiful. The same is true of lesser storms.
Beauty goes unnoticed as fear prevails.
Storms of life bring destruction, grief, damage, and beauty, too.
My parents were married sixty-seven years. Daddy died on Christmas Eve.
Mother huddled in a wheelchair in at the cemetery in December wind.
A grandson and great grandson-in-law covered her with coats.
When Jim hugged her afterwards, she told him he looked cold, should have a coat.
At the church parlor afterwards, she manipulated her wheelchair with her feet,
greeting friends and relatives. The good memories outweigh the bad,
the beauty survives the storm. It’s not so obvious sometimes,
but often you can find beauty prevails in recalling dark times.