Living in Southern California, I had almost forgotten what storms can be like. Years of severe drought conditions have turned the Golden State a somewhat less appealing shade of brown, and rain of any kind has become all too rare an occurrence.

And then, a few weeks ago, it came. At first, my wife and I heard the rumble of distant thunder, and we waited. But there was nothing more than gentle rain. We went to sleep to the pit-pat of water dripping from the eaves outside our bedroom window.

Later that morning, however, the storm was on top of us. The rain poured; the sky exploded in light; the roar of thunder shook the house.

Not long after dawn, the storm passed. I looked out our patio door. The crepe myrtle had already begun putting on its autumnal reds and golds; now, rain-drenched and standing quietly in the ambient light, the leaves fairly glowed.

And from that moment of wonder, my mind turned tech. So, I thought, this is God’s version of Photoshop.

Life has its storms. Perhaps the metaphor has become overused to the point of being trite. But I know far too many people who are navigating choppy waters, each in his or her own way. Coping with the loss of a loved one, or of a much needed job and its income. Struggling through medical conditions or chronic pain. Caring for parents and spouses whose very identities are being ravaged by Alzheimer’s. On and on the prayer list goes.

But I can’t help thinking that this is one way God deepens the colors of our lives. He won’t always rescue us from the storm. But he will help us weather it, letting us be saturated by the falling rain all through the long night.

And in the light of morning we see his handiwork, brilliant to behold.