After Every Storm Comes Sunshine

Hello, friends.

This morning, while looking out the window, I found myself thinking about storms.

Not only the ones we see in the sky, but also the ones we experience throughout our lives.

It reminded me of a beautiful memory from my childhood that, at the time, seemed so ordinary. Looking back today, I realize it became one of the greatest life lessons I have ever received.

When I was a little girl growing up in Brazil, I was terrified of thunderstorms. Every time the sky became dark and the lightning appeared, I wanted to hide.

My grandmother knew how frightened I was, but instead of trying to distract me or telling me not to be afraid, she gently invited me to face the storm with her.

We would lie together in a hammock on the veranda of our country house, watching the lightning dance across the sky.

Every time we saw a flash of light, we counted the seconds until we heard the thunder, trying to discover how far away the storm was.

I still remember her smiling and saying, “We just have to wait for the sun. It always comes back.”

At that time, I thought she was simply talking about the weather.

Many years later, after moving to Canada and starting my own family, we woke one morning to a thunderstorm. Storms like that are not very common where we live, and my daughter climbed into my bed feeling anxious and scared.

Without even thinking, I opened the curtains and invited her to lie beside me. Together, we watched the lightning.

We counted the seconds until the thunder arrived, just as my grandmother and I had done so many years before.

Little by little, I noticed her shoulders relaxing. Her fear slowly gave way to curiosity, and before long she was smiling.

After the storm had passed, we stayed together for a few more minutes, watching the clouds slowly drift away. Suddenly, she looked out the window with the biggest smile and said, “Mamae... the sky is opening!”

In that moment, tears filled my eyes. Without realizing it, I had become my grandmother.

Very quietly, I thanked her for her love, her patience, and for giving me something so precious that I could one day pass it on to my own daughter.

As I reflected on that morning, I realized that my grandmother had never taught me how to stop storms.

She taught me how to look at them differently.

Our lives are full of storms. Some arrive like a gentle summer rain that passes quickly. Others come like powerful thunderstorms, shaking everything we thought was certain.

To be honest, living through those moments is never easy!

Sometimes we feel afraid, overwhelmed, exhausted, or completely lost.

We cry. We question. We feel like giving up. And sometimes... we do give up!

But every storm also carries something we cannot always see while we are living through it.

Transformation.

Looking back, I realize it was during those life storms that I grew the most. Not because I wanted those experiences. I never would have chosen them. But they taught me to slow down, to listen to my heart, to appreciate the little moments, and to trust that hope is always waiting on the other side.

I have also come to understand that we cannot always choose the storms that come our way, but we can gently choose how we face them.

We can allow them to fill us only with fear, or we can slowly begin looking for the lessons, the unexpected moments of kindness, and the small rays of light that somehow always find their way through the darkest clouds. It is often our perspective, rather than the storm itself, that changes everything.

Perhaps that was the greatest gift my grandmother ever gave me.

She did not teach me that storms disappear.

She taught me to trust that the sun would always return.

Today, I believe she was not only teaching me about thunderstorms.

She was quietly teaching me about life.

Perhaps the sunshine that returns after every storm is not only in the sky.

It is also within us.

--------------------------------------------------------------------- Before We Meet Again Tomorrow...

If today feels like one of life's storms, I hope you will remember my grandmother's gentle words.

The sky does not stay dark forever.

Little by little, the clouds begin to move.

The light returns.

And so do we.

Thank you for walking this journey with me.

With love,

Karem