Writing in the Rain

What is it about a good thunderstorm/rainstorm that makes me itch to set words on paper? Seriously, am I that melancholy? (Husband nods the affirmative). Maybe it has something to do with my roots that are still deeply planted in the pacific northwest, watered regularly by heavy rainfall. Regardless . . .

Tonight, as a lovely thunderstorm rolled through town and beat back the dust, the humidity, and the length of my mid-July day, I rejoiced. I couldn't wait till I got the kids to bed so I could blog these thoughts.

Caleb, Ella, and I cozied up in the front porch—newly refurbished with windows that actually opened—and flung said windows wide (sans screens), to the wild wind, resolunding thunder, and torrential rain. Glorious.

We are working on reassuring Caleb that thunder is not a thing to be afraid of—that God made it so that the skies could praise Him. ("It's just the sky saying, You are amazing God!!!") Caleb is still a little skeptical, but it got him thinking and with every resounding boom he looked at me with cautious eyes—

"The sky is praising?"

"The sky is praising," I assure him with a nod and he is satisfied until the next boom forces his wide eyes back to mine.





Ella is still too little to be bothered by much of anything, save an empty tummy or dirty pants; still, she too was wide-eyed and attentive tonight as we sat together and admired the chaos outside.

This is what I love most about Minnesota. We have thunderstorms like no one else, and also what I miss the most come winter.

There is something soul-straining . . . stretching . . . about a sky that nearly tears itself apart. And yes, I am well aware of the meteorological reasons behind our storms—cold fronts and warm fronts, rising and falling pressure, the whole works.

Nevertheless, I prefer to raise my wide eyes to heaven with my son and wonder over a God who is so amazing that even the skies would rend themselves for His glory.

Reign on me . . .