Faith / General / Inspiration / Lessons / Quote

on thunderstorms

At some point thus far in the season, I’m sure you’ve heard one of early summer’s epic thunderstorms. Over here on the mid-East-Coast USA, there was one last week. You couldn’t have missed it if you tried.

For me, thunderstorms carry with them some sort of sentimental, nostalgic charm. I fully embrace them like I’d embrace a Krispy Kreme donut hand-selected by my Grandmother from a fundraiser box. In my mind, they’re that good.

They make me think of long, late summer nights when I was a little girl and I’d sit in beach chairs at the edge of the open garage with my Dad. We’d listen to the torrential downpours, causing us to strain to even hear each other; counting the seconds between each peal of thunder.

I think of the times our family boat days ended early, racing back to the docks in efforts to beat the impending tempest. {If you’ve never watched an approaching rain storm travel across an open waterway, I’m telling you – one day you will have to find your vantage point.}

I’d watch as the boys of the family wrestled for control of the boat standing in shallow water, admist the thrashing waves; fighting to secure it to the buoy.

I think about the times in North Carolina where we rode the fishing boat back in to the inlet, charging up & plummeting down steep crests, that only hours ago provided flat ground suitable for water-skiing. We’d shriek with each roll, our stomachs lifting and dropping every time. The winds & rain furied on, drenching us all; as the lightning strikes & thunderous booms caressed on the near horizon.

Of course these experiences were scary – without a doubt, they were dangerous.  Fear has always been a part of it; but exhilaration steals the show.

For mostly what I remember, is the fullest feeling of being alive & awake. 

The storms from last week came in the middle of the night, past the time I’d been trying to fall asleep. I was restlessly laying there – experiencing the toss & turn of insomnia. Tired, but hopelessly roused.

Then the storm rolled in. The pouring deluge first, the ceaseless cracks next, and then the flashes of light so bright you could see them with your eyes closed.

I’d argue that storms cause an enhanced awareness. The call attention to our senses. Their smell. The feel of electricity in the air.  The warmth & heat in your body. The chill on your skin from the wet rain. The shuddering jolt of unexpected roars. The awe at the sight of crisp lightning bolts that light up the sky.

The fullest feeling of being alive & awake. 

I no longer had insomnia. Just an alert, grounded, vibrant contentment. Simultaneously excited & calm.


I laid there as it raged. But what I should have done, is what I felt prompted to do…march to the top of my rooftop deck and stand in the midst of it – arms open wide, surrendering to every fear of the unknown. Standing face to face with my sense of smallness in the midst of a vast, expansive sky – and a Creator for whom my craft is no match.

“The heavens proclaim the glory of God. The skies display his craftsmanship. Day after day, they continue to speak; night after night they make him known.” {Psalm 19: 1-3}. 

Someone once asked me, “Why are you trying so hard to control or understand?” I floundered for answer, before they replied, “To control or understand something, you have to reduce it, you have to make it smaller. Would you really want to understand the universe?

I thought to myself, Do I really want to control His strength & fury in my life? Do I really want to resist His power? No, I don’t.

I just want to be left with the constant reminder that thunderstorms carry. There is freedom found on the other side of fear. Sometimes surrendering, is simply just an act of dancing in the rain. 





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