In the Spring, I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours. -Mark Twain

Photo courtesy of Blaine Dickerson (one of my favorite people)

Mark Twain described this spring perfectly!  It has been a crazy one.  It is nearly June and we have barely broken the 60s yet, minus a few random days.  We have had some rain, some snow, some hail, and definitely some wind.  Our trampolines, yes, I think I have mentioned before, we have two, nearly blew away on more than one occasion.  Beckham and I were running around crazy in the wind that day weighing everything down with sandbags that we just happened to have in the garage.  We even had to tape our garbage cans shut.  All these storms have caused some grief, especially for my five year old Rylan.  He has a new fear of storms, poor little duder.  Any time the rain starts or he sees the wind in the trees he gets an agitated fear in his voice and asks, "is that a storm mama?"  I know this fear and it reminded me of an excerpt from one of my unfinished books.

The wind whipped her hair around her face, catching in her eyes, muffling all sound.  A storm was coming, and she could feel something else as well, but every time she tried to turn and see, her vision was blurred by her dark locks.  Wind had always made her nervous.  The feeling of anxiety in her chest reminded her of how the horses and dogs would act funny when a storm was blowing in, they felt it before it was there; running around, agitated, kicking at unseen terrors, barking and neighing, this must be what they felt.  Even when safe indoors, sheltered from the wind, she felt unease.  The rattling of the windows, the sound of objects flying outside the door, as if some unseen power lived in the wind trying to break every obstacle in its wake.  She longed to be outdoors when the wind howled, to see the force behind the power, face the fear, but then longed for shelter when she was outside in the gusts that took her breath away.  Life seemed to follow this pattern for Isabelle, when she was in one place, she longed for another.  She never truly felt at ease.  Tonight was no different, but the weight on her chest, the ringing in her ears, the tingling in her spine told her it was something more, something worse. 

She quickened her pace, trying not to show her fear.  Showing fear only showed weakness.  In life she tried to mimic the Isabelle of her dreams, the one who chased her fears, attacking head on with a knife in hand, but she couldn’t imagine the Isabelle of her dreams feeling like her heart was about to explode.  She felt weaker in real life than she did as she fought her fears and demons each night.  Tonight she longed to feel like she did when she was asleep, to be able to stop in her tracks, turn around and see what was making her feel so intensely.  Instead she ran, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the wind pushing at her back.  She almost felt like she could fly, leaping through the air, as she did in her mind when she was asleep. 

I know this fear because I have been "blessed" with the ability to sense or dream when something is coming.  It is an awful power to possess.  I suppose it is a blessing in that I can be prepared when I discover what the awful feeling is, or know when to ask questions, but it definitely causes some serious stress.  

It is also amazing to me how life can feel like a storm in one moment and then, just as when the sun peaks through the clouds, you can feel clarity and peace.  I suppose the past few years have been my spring.  I feel a little crazy sometimes in that I can experience 136 different emotion in a single day.  However, I am thankful I can still find the sunshine peaking through the storm clouds.  There is still joy to be had in spite of all of the stresses this life has to offer.  Sometimes we just have to turn up the volume on our funny movie (like my son Rylan does during a storm) so that we can't hear the raging around us.   Sometimes we have to search for the rainbows through the dark clouds.  Sometimes we need some unicorns and sprinkles in there as well.  Sorry, getting a little too warm and fuzzy :)   But, truly, there is always some hope mixed in there, even when it feels like you can't take anymore.  For me its watching my kids finally playing happily together, my baby's dimply smile and tiny feet, my husband's laughter and random touches as he walks by, and even my two  year old pooping in the potty.   It's the little things.  It's the people in our lives.