When it rains it pours, sometimes, there are tornados

Charleston is below sea level, so when we get a heavy rainstorm for any time

period, oh, say 5 minutes, a lot of our streets flood. Especially down. The people who live and work here are used to it and prepare for the worst whenever rain is predicted in Charleston.

The residents of Alabama, Mississippi and other southern states were prepared for a good rainstorm, but sudden the shrill peal of a whistle pierced, and they knew one way or the other their lives were going to change.

In a split second, a storm becomes a Tornado. Yesterday, a storm appeared out of nowhere.

 One minute it was calm without a breeze, and then suddenly the sky was lit up with lightening.  Wind, not a breeze, wind whipped across the lake. The once tranquil lake now rose and fell as waves began to build.

We watched as the water rose up and down going from side to side in waves,  trees on the side of the lake bent to meet the waves as if the welcoming the water to the shore.

The Kid tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to a bird. The bird was trying to make it to the dock, flying against the wind. He made it a few inches, and then was pushed back. At one point, he was thrust into the water. He begun fighting vigorously to become airborne again. WE found ourselves rooting for the bird.

"Come on, you can make it," we whispered feeling silly but still wanting the little guy to succeed.

He made it airborne, flying painfully, to the dock. We had not noticed about ten birds were clustered at the edge of the pier watching their friend.  Were they cheering him on in the language of the birds?

  It certainly seemed as if they were, because they welcomed him with open uh, wings and ushered him onto the safety of our dock.

The wind and rain continued.  Occasionally a test bird was sent out to see if he could get the heroic journey across the lake. Each time he was pushed back. The birds would walk away with their heads down.

The Kid and I spent a little time observing the birds they huddled in small groups, casting furtive glances out to the water and to the sky. They kept trying they did not give up at all.

One bird only made it about two feet from the dock, landed in the water with a plop so loud we heard it.

The other birds watched him struggle for a moment then one took off and proceeded to help his friend. When he was steady, they both begun to fly back, but the friend who came out to help was hit by a gust of wind and down he went. He made it to the group. However, not without great difficulty.
Denise and I continued to watch this drama for about two hours.

Finally, two of them took off in opposite directions; both made it so the rest, after deep consultation,

followed.

Now you are expecting a point, or summation to pull all of this together form a spiritual point.

There is not one.

It is a story for your own interpretation. I was amazed at the resilience of the birds.

How the little creatures, tiny though they were, fought for the thing they wanted most; to get home. What a community of family such as we have never imagined.

It is a symbol of how we humans fight, when the rain becomes a tornado.

When a marriage you thought was just on the rocks, suddenly ends.

When you take your child to the doctor for a cold, and bring them home with a diagnosis of Cancer

When the heavy rain turns into a tornado and your house is in its path.

We, like the birds land on our feet, what else can we do?

So it is just recollection of a Sunday afternoon in Charleston SC.I hope you enjoyed it.

 “Any faith that must be supported by the evidence of the senses is not real faith.”

- A.W. Tozer, The Knowledge of the Holy