Trust the Storm's Purpose

My phone buzzed with the familiar amber alert tone. "Destructive force," it warned. "Seek shelter immediately."

Within hours, Austin's sky erupted in fury. Baseball-sized hail pounded rooftops. Wind whipped sideways with such force that even our covered patio couldn't shield the windows from rain's assault. Bikes toppled. The grill skittered across concrete. Our French drain, built just weeks ago, surrendered to the torrent.

When morning came, I surveyed the wreckage. Branches from our massive pecan tree lay scattered like fallen soldiers. The Chinese tallow had lost one large limb. Everything looked broken.

Destructive force. The phrase echoed as I grabbed my handsaw and began the cleanup. One by one, I sectioned the fallen branches into manageable pieces. But as I worked, something caught my eye.