It starts with a grumble in the east. You quickly glance up at the sky—what’s the cloud situation? Is there lightning? The Spanish moss hangs limp from the oak trees and there’s not a whisper of breeze.

It’s still sunny where you are, but puffy clouds edged with gray appear, racing across the sky. A summer storm approaches.

Quickly the blue sky turns gray, the air temperature drops, the rumbling surrounds you. Sometimes the light takes on an eerie green tinge.

The house shakes the next time the thunder booms, and you begin to see lightning flashes. In moments, the rain begins to spatter the ground, speckling the pavement. The rain whispers or rustles or thuds, depending on how hard it’s coming down. If you’re lucky, you’re inside, cozily watching. If you’re unlucky enough to be out and about, you’re probably drenched despite your umbrella. You might take off your sandals so they don’t get ruined, and run through the parking lot to get to your car. (Or is that just me?)

After a few moments—or an hour—the sun may shine through the rain. This is what’s known as a sun shower. Or a rainbow will appear. Your gift for weathering another summer storm.

Sometimes we can see the storm coming from a long way away and we can prepare at least somewhat, as my family and I did last summer when Hurricane Irma was bearing down on us. Sometimes a storm appears seemingly out of nowhere and we’re forced to take cover until the worst is over. Afterwards, we pick up the pieces.

What’s true of the weather is also true of our lives. Sometimes we see the storm coming, other times it takes us by surprise and all we can do is hold on. If you’re in the midst of a storm, know that it will end, and that you may very well find a world made new on the other side. If you’re watching a storm on the horizon, what can you do to prepare for it? And if you’re currently enjoying a stretch of beautiful weather, savor every moment of it, knowing that soon enough, the storms will come.

What storms have you weathered lately?

How lucky are we? Tropical Storm Isaac skirted farther to the west than we expected, and all we got was some rain (and a tornado watch). No school, no trash pickup, and government offices closed today. There could be some flooding of a river near us, but other than flooded roads we’ve been lucky. Again.

We prepared well for this storm—topping off our gas tanks, taking some cash out of the bank, making sure our hurricane food and water supplies were adequate, charging up the electronics and phones. I even went to the library to pick up two books on hold for me (wouldn’t want to run out of reading material, would I? Not that there’s the remotest chance of that). Last night, the worst of the storm looked likely to pass by us, so we didn’t have to bring in all our potted plants and patio furniture. Our preparations took on sort of the opposite of “If you build it, they will come” thinking—more like “If you prepare, the storm will pass you by.”  

Storms come to us all—both the physical and the emotional. With a hurricane or a tropical storm, you usually have plenty of warning. Not so for an earthquake, which I experienced several times growing up in California. There’s not a lot you can do, except try to be prepared for the inevitable. Store up food and water, fill your gas tank, fill your emotional well. And be grateful when all is calm.

A moment ago, I saw the sun peek out for the first time today. It’s gone again, but it reminded me that storms pass. And sometimes they’re not as bad as we expect.

It looks like Isaac will strengthen into a hurricane, and make landfall late Tuesday or early Wednesday somewhere on the Gulf Coast. My thoughts are with the people in the Gulf states—I hope they weather this storm safely. 

How do you prepare for storms—physical or emotional?