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There’s something about a thunderstorm that stirs the soul. The crack of lightning, the roll of thunder, the pounding of rain against a window. It grabs your attention, demands you stop and take notice. And if you’re like me, sometimes it feels like the sky is reflecting exactly what’s going on inside.

Life often mimics the storm.

Lightning strikes, sudden, unexpected, sharp. Just like that phone call you didn’t want to get, the job you lost, the betrayal you never saw coming. It lights everything up for a split second, exposing what was hidden in the dark. It’s terrifying, but also clarifying. In the flash, you see the truth — who’s there, who’s not, what matters, what never did.

Then comes the thunder. Sometimes it follows instantly, other times it lags behind. It’s the echo of that moment, the grief, the fear, the rage that rattles your chest long after the strike. Thunder is the emotional aftermath. It’s loud, it vibrates through your bones, it’s impossible to ignore, and sometimes it rolls in waves. Just when you think it’s quiet again, there’s another rumble.

And then… the rain.

The rain is different. It doesn’t shout or flash. It falls, steady and soft, or sometimes in sheets, drenching you before you can run for cover. It’s the tears you hold in until no one’s watching. It’s the weight you carry in silence. It’s the kind of pain that doesn’t scream, but lingers. But rain also washes things clean. It softens what’s been hardened. It nourishes the soil so something new can grow.

We spend so much of life trying to outrun the storm, but what if we’re meant to walk through it?

Sometimes, lightning shows us what we needed to see.

Sometimes, thunder reminds us we’re still alive.

Sometimes, rain gives us permission to let go.

Not all storms come to destroy. Some come to clear a path.

So if you’re in the middle of one, if your world is flashing and rumbling and everything feels soaked and heavy, don’t panic. You are not broken. You are weathering something powerful. And storms don’t last forever.

Eventually, the sky clears.

And sometimes, when it does, you see a rainbow, or at least breathe easier.

Until the next one comes, and you remember you’ve made it through before. And you will again.