Summer Storms (& Other Desperately Needed Depressions)

The best part about growing up in Mississippi were the daily summer storms. I didn’t think so at the time, mind you. I was a kid. And I was a kid who - back in the 80’s when parents had less anxiety - spent my range-free, summer days riding bikes with my friends, playing kickball in neighborhoods miles away from home, hanging out at the bowling alley, and playing Little League All-Star games deep into June.

I hated those summer storms.

That never stopped the storms from coming.

Like clockwork, each June day a summer storm would force us indoors. The storms never lasted long. Sometimes 10-minutes, other times a half or full hour, but never all afternoon. Regardless, it was long enough to make me go home.

Once home, my dad (a school teacher who was home in the summer), would make me and brother sit on the couch and read books. After the reading was done we had to “be still” a while, which more often than not, lead to a nap. Dad would tell us that the nap was good preparation for our baseball games that night. But, I suspect, they were also good for him to not have to deal with us. After the storms passed, me and my friends, hopped back on our bikes and resumed our day of play, only this time in mud.

I now miss those summer storms.

The daily rhythm of being chased inside taught me much of what I need to survive in these terribly trying, worrying, and confusing days.

Scrolling through the news on my iPad each morning and reading the rants of the Twitterverse, I am daily acquainted with the reality that our world is in a awful state. War in Ukraine, the continuing economic, political, and health fallout of COVID-19, an American political and cultural compact which is daily being re-written and rights re-litigated, increasing climate disasters, and the sad condition of the San Antonio Spurs give me little to be optimistic about.

But summer storms taught me that the sun will not always shine, but it will shine again. I learned that, perhaps, the best use of my time during the rain was to learn, reflect, and rest. I discovered that once the storms passed, I would need my energy to strive and accomplish something that mattered to me and was more meaningful.

When the rains come, we always wish they hadn’t. Storms end our good time, interrupt our schedules, and muddies the water. Yet, without them the lush greenery which filled my southern Mississippi childhood would never flourish and soon, the mighty river which runs through her would dry, killing the economy, wildlife, and, most importantly, people.

I don’t like storms. And all of life feels like a storm right now. The question is, what are we doing in the midst of it? Cause storms do not last.