The first fat drops begin to fall, and I still have about four more passes with the lawn mower before I can consider my job “done.” It starts with a vengeance as I begin pushing the mower through the wide wooden gate, drizzling down my hair and face and washing the lawn with fresh spring. Hail begins to fall as the mower and I round the corner, plinking on the car and the driveway as I push the mower into the garage—just in time. The next several moments are a flurry of running and pulling the car into the garage and moving things out of the way and telling the kids that everything is all right. Our area of town experienced golf ball-sized hail, but we were warm and dry, sheltered and safe.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved watching a storm from the safety of a porch or a patio. My childhood home boasted a drive-through car port. When spring storms would arrive with a gust, Dad and I would stand together underneath the overhang, breathing in spring and promise and growth. The louder the thunder, the better: I would stand safe by my daddy, feeling the rolls of thunder as they moved through the sky, joining him to count the seconds until the lightning flashed to estimate how far away the storm actually was.

Because my first storm memories include standing side by side with my loving father, or being held in his strong arms, safely sheltered and enjoying the thing he enjoyed, storms hold no threat for me. In the spring, my favorite place during a storm is the front porch, where I can feel the gusts of wind, the overspray of rain, and remember.

The rain and hail takes turns pattering or pounding on the roof. My heart is filled with gratitude for a safe place to be, a husband that works hard to shelter and provide, and a God who provides all we need. We’re cocooned in safety as the storm blows by.

As I type these thoughts, the hail has moved on, the wind has died down, and there is a perfect drizzle as I sit on our porch reminiscing. I was able to coax my oldest out with me for a bit to count the time between the thunder and the lightning and watch the hail fall and the wind blow.

There’s a big contrast between being in a storm and watching a storm from a safe place, isn’t there? A major storm holds real danger, replete with wind gusts, hail, lightning, and rain. But watching the storm from safety—that is different indeed. Underneath my porch, wind may blow in drops and falling temperatures may bring a delightful shiver. But I am safe, counting the time between the thunder and the lightning.

This morning’s weather got me thinking about those storms in life that we all weather. As a believer, you are as safe from the storm assailing you as I was as a child, sheltered in my strong daddy’s arms. Safer, even. A house built on the rock, strong and sturdy, shelters you. Storms hold no threat for you. He is your shelter, away from the raging wind and the tempest.

“The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; he knows those who take refuge in him” (Nahum 1:7). Are you taking refuge in Jesus? Take heart: He knows you. He sees you; He delights in you. Storms don’t worry the Master of creation. He is not limited by a gust of wind or incapacitated by rain or hail. Even the wind and the waves obey Him. He knows those who take refuge in Him—that’s a promise!

The next time a spring storm blows through your neighborhood, be reminded that storms hold no threat for you. The eternal God is your dwelling place, and His everlasting arms are holding you close. Storms are simply one more opportunity to snuggle close to your Father.

“They saw the deeds of the Lord, his wondrous works in the deep. For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea.…Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Then they were glad that the waters were quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven.” (Psalm 107:24–25, 28–30)