On occasion, I gazed over the horizon as a wall cloud formed, unable to look away. This seemed particularly foolish from my third-floor apartment, as a single person, during an overactive tornado season. I thought this, even as I stood transfixed at the wonder and majesty of the storm forming a few miles away. A few years later, in another storm, I found myself much less calm. In the last trimester of my first pregnancy, I stayed with my parents due to my husband’s deployment. One of the first thunderstorms of the season woke me, and no matter how much I prayed, I could not find a sense of peace or get comfortable. I attribute all of this to my pregnancy. Dietrich is often afraid of thunderstorms, just as he did not like that first one.

Thunder in the mountains adds a new level of awe, as the booms echo off the mountainside. The rumbles continue as though you are sitting in tympani drums. I miss living in Colorado when I remember the awesome percussion symphony of thunderstorms there.

At our house in Germany, it seemed that thunder and lightning surrounded us during storms. Our village rolled along with a series of hills. We felt perfectly safe, nestled between a larger hill and the valley. In fact, we thought tornadoes were an improbability in Germany until the summer before we moved, when one touched down near the airbase. One evening, I took a video as the clouds rolled in with a constant lightning show. Then I dissected that video and created a still image of the perfect lightning strike pictured above.

Thunderstorms display God’s power, creating both awe and fear. Throughout Scripture, storms remind us of how small we are and how powerful God is. Jesus spoke, and the wind and waves obeyed Him. The same power that leaves me standing transfixed by a thunderstorm belongs to the One who created it.

After two years, I am still not “used to” this climate, but I relish such reminders from God. Reminders to slow down, enjoy the moments, and not worry about all the “stuff” that I think must be done.

Jesus tells us not to worry about tomorrow because “each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matthew 6:34). Earlier in the same passage, He points to creation itself. Look at the birds. Consider the flowers. God feeds and clothes them, and we are worth much more to Him (Matthew 6:25–33).

We cannot add hours or days to our lives, as we sometimes think we “need.” Nor can we add even an inch to our height through worrying (though I wouldn’t mind a couple of extra inches either).

God knows our needs. His answers may not look like our answers, and His timing may not look like ours. Ultimately, we either trust that God is the righteous and faithful Judge and Provider, or we rely only on ourselves.

I am ever thankful that His grace covers me on the days I fall short, and I am humbled to give Him all the glory on the days that I do well.

While I’m a long way from the ideal of Proverbs 31, I know the Artist isn’t through with me yet. The same God whose artistry I see in the changing seasons is still at work in me.

Sometimes the simplest songs reflect the biggest concepts. As I thought about the changes of the season and God’s majesty in creation, I remembered the children’s song “He’s Still Working on Me.”

Years later, I think that simple truth still says it well: the Artist isn’t finished yet.