Last night, after three days of building heat, the heavens cracked open again and torrential rain fell.
The thunder growled ominously overhead and the lightening split a dark sky wide open.
When we were little we imagined that the thunder was the Man Upstairs moving his furntiure about, dragging the coffee table from here to there, rearranging the position of His armchair, pushing a bed against a celestial wall. I considered last night as I lay trying to sleep that the loudest, angriest crashes in the sky might be the result of Him stubbing a toe and swearing loudly.
Much as I had done earlier in the evening, groping through the dark after the power had gone out, trying to find my way to bed.
January 3, 2008 at 12:56 am |
Thunder in January. I can’t imagine. We have sudden snow squalls and the inability to get off the mountain.
Life. Who knew?
February 21, 2008 at 10:33 pm |
I like the furniture idea. When we were small, it was God playing bowling and the point when the storm was directly overhead, it was a strike.
So instead of being frightened when the storm was at it’s peak we were cheering on God against the saints.