A band of storms swept through town this morning.
When I set out for work the storms had just passed. As I closed the front door, the birds were singing.
I took a breath; the air was sweet. Sweeter than I can remember. It was not a sweetness borne of any identifiable smell. It was a sweetness that comes from the absence of pollution, dust, irritants. It was the smell of the wilderness.
Storms are never easy or pleasant. But that is how God cleans house.
It is good to be alive.
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