Storm’s brewing, I thought one chilly March day. Dark clouds rolled across the sky outside my kitchen window. The trees in the yard were bent and swaying in the wind.
Everyone around here complains about the cold, wet Oregon winters, and our new carport had done its share of complaining too: creaking and groaning with every blustery day. A strong wind could tear the roof off it.
There was nothing I could do so I turned away from the window. Dear Lord, please don’t let anything happen to that carport.
Then I heard it: the unmistakable pitter-patter of hailstones. I glanced back outside at the carport, but my eye was caught by something else. One of my irises had pushed its way heavenward to make an early appearance for spring.
I was transfixed by this bold, beautiful white flower, its petals flapping in the wind like angel wings.
Soon the weather calmed and the sun appeared. I stepped outside to check on the carport—and the iris. The carport was fine, and the flower stood tall and proud, no worse for the battering it had received.
That’s when I realized: We’d planted only yellow and purple iris bulbs. Where had the white one come from?
Perhaps an angel had planted it to remind me that life’s storms are rarely as bad as we expect, and that we are stronger than we know.
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