Rest from the Storm

Dark skies to the west and south and north and east matched the radar image on the national weather service site yesterday evening; it certainly seemed that thunderstorms could easily develop. So, being the prudent and cautious couple that we are, Randa and I decided that was the perfect time to go work on the roof of the horse shed. One thing for sure: we weren’t going to need sun block.

By seven, the heat index had dropped to at least twenty degrees lower than it was the evening we’d put the tarpaper on the roof. With slate clouds bellying by overhead, I backed the truck up to the east opening of the shed. After I scored a line across the back, Randa broke off the tabs to create the starter shingles. I set a ladder across the tailgate and fastened the first row as Randa handed them to me one at a time. Then, we moved up onto the roof. The air felt like rain could start at any instant as I climbed up the ladder.

As we worked, with darker clouds pushing toward us from the southwest, a cool breeze came up, rustling the leaves of the huge cottonwood tree and sounding like rain. “That air sure feels good,” I commented as we nailed. “Yes, it does,” Randa responded, “a lot better than it did Saturday.”

The sky darkened up still more. Out loud, I wondered if we should quit before we got soaked or just keep working. We kept working and a few minutes later, while Randa had gone down to run an errand, it started raining. Randa ducked under the shed. I kept putting down shingles, weaving the new course into the old ones on the building we’d built onto for the horse shed. In a couple of minutes, the shower was over.

An even fresher air followed the rain. Randa came back up the ladder and we finished the east side just after it got too dark to see my cut marks for the shingles. In spite of the threat of rain and storm, it had turned out to be an almost perfect evening for working on a roof in the hottest week of the summer.

Sometimes the Lord brings us refreshing in the midst of our labors and sometimes we have to work on in the drenching sweat and sapping heat. We give him thanks for cool water and for the strength to work until our work is done. Sometimes, it is the storm itself that gives us rest.

H. Arnett


About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Blair, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-five years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-one grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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