Storm predictions on both sides of the Atlantic. After months of planning our second honeymoon and my husband Nick’s 70th birthday celebration in Switzerland and Italy, a weather report threatened to sabotage my carefully planned itinerary. The forecast was so certain that I put the rain cover on the snazzy backpack I’d borrowed from my daughter-in-law, Mya. Friends and family prayed–we boarded the flight! To our surprise, when we arrived we were greeted with clear blue skies. Off weG went! Our mission: to find our way around the largest train station in Switzerland, the Zurich Hauptbanhof. And fend off jet lag the rest of the day. Through the morning of bewildering signs (you pay to use the facilities), lunch in the lush Platzspitz Park along the deep greenish blue Limmat River, sunny weather prevailed. Finally, later in the afternoon during a planned bus/ferry/cable car tour of Zurich and its surroundings, a misty rain transformed the wooded path to the Felsenegg ridge overlooking Lake Zurich into an enchanted forest. Storm forecast fulfilled.
As our train rumbled gently along our last view of Lake Zurich, grey mists morphed into white puffy clouds by the time we reached Chur, the oldest city in Switzerland. Boarding the Glacier Express, with windows all around, we continued our journey towards Zermatt. Approaching the Overalp Pass, even darker clouds engulfed the Alpine peaks. As we descended into the valley, the sun came out once again. Though I would have found beauty in a rainy landscape, the charming Swiss villages and vivid greens of the mountainside pastures were breathtaking against the clear blue sky. Throughout our time in Switzerland and Italy, the rains prevalent in June never arrived. Glittering Lake Como, glorious in its summer dress. Colorful villas with their flowering Oleander trees. Stone walled pathways draped in pink, purple, yellow and white blossoms. The golden Italian sunlight baked us in its warmth. I was grateful to God for this extravagant gift of beauty. It was a much-needed respite, thanks to the generosity of our sons and their wives. They joyfully gathered at our home to make music and take care of Jonathan, our special needs son.
As I reflect on the beautiful scenes of our glorious trip, a recurring memory is the clearing of those rain clouds. Clouds symbolize various, contrasting themes in literature and the Bible. In literature, a man-centric view recognizes their seemingly capricious qualities. In my personal life, I’ve associated clouds with foreboding. Worry. To my surprise, I discovered that in the Bible, clouds often symbolize the hidden yet ever-present Spirit of God. Clouds surrounding the Shekinah Glory of God on Mount Sinai. God’s promise to Noah - a rainbow set in the clouds. As the Israelites escape through the Red Sea, the pillar of cloud shrouds them from the Egyptians’ view. In the midst of the cloud, God’s presence guides and protects. At the Ascension, Jesus rises up into the clouds, promising to send the Holy Spirit, the clouds a reminder that though invisible, His spirit is ever present to aid and teach those who trust in Him. And that storm that was predicted? In the Bible, thunder and lightning often symbolize God’s sovereign power over His creation. Jesus calms the storm. "What kind of man is this? Even the winds and waves obey Him!"
Most of the rain clouds in my life center on the future care for our special needs son, Jonathan. Plan and prepare as best we can, we cannot anticipate every variable. I view those rain clouds with far more trepidation than those during our trip. The concerns are real. Just as the clouds we saw on our trip were real, not imagined. Despite the promise of our children to care for Jonathan, will we have enough money at the end of our lives to spare Jonathan’s care from being a burden? What if we become sick and our care eats up all the money from our estate? What if we die sooner than we think? Will the trust be enough? Yet the clearing of these rain clouds has been a lesson for me. Yes, the clouds are real. Storm clouds may predict a gloomy outcome, but His hidden presence directs circumstances in ways I cannot anticipate.
Now that I think of it, God used clouds to reassure me at other key moments in my life. The summer before Nick and I married, the interference of well-meaning relatives in our wedding plans made it more stressful than joyful. Over and over I saw rainbows or lights streaming from the clouds as I drove to and from work. A reassurance I was taking the right step. Or when I discovered in a bookstore that the name God had given me for our sixth son already known to have Down Syndrome, Jonathan, meant “God has given.” Only to walk out into the parking lot to the most glorious multicolored sunset I have ever seen. From every cloud beamed shafts of light, painting the entire sky every orange, purple, red, pink and blue imaginable.
Still, clouds do produce shadows. Disappointments and grief in this life will come. Enveloped in the shadow of God’s presence, we can walk through even the valley of the shadow of death, with the promise that He will be with us. Just as storm predictions could have delayed our trip and rains could have shrouded our views but didn’t, many of my worries may never come to pass. Other unexpected blessings may surprise me.
Next time the storm cloud of worry gathers on the horizon, I will remind myself of what God says. His presence is sometimes hidden yet never absent. He controls the winds that move the clouds. And most pertinent to my concern, He loves children. Jesus’ tenderness as he gathered them in His arms reminds me that He is fiercely protective of the weak and vulnerable. He invests them with dignity as ones made in His image and watches over them with sovereign power. “Even the winds and waves obey Him.” I can view storm clouds through the lens of wonder and trust, not fear. God’s creation points to a loving Creator. Just as colorful flowers fill me with joy and celebration, clouds can be transformed for me into a reminder of God’s presence and power.