It is a dark and stormy night. Literally. The rain is pounding hard and it sounds like hundreds of broken shells being flung against the air conditioner unit and roof. The thunder is thundering and the wind encircles the house in a cyclonic embrace. We are in Kansas, after all, and it's tornado season.
I'm back home this weekend for a family reunion, and as I sit here at my Mom's desk, late in the night listening to these sounds of threatening weather, I'm remembering just how familiar the sounds are. Fierce wet winds and claps of thunder so loud, everyone in the room would all jump at the same time. My grandparents would crack open the windows so that the "storm could pass through" and they'd turn off the lights so that we could hear the Lord speak through the thunder. And we would go lie on the bed and close our eyes and rest peacefully against the backdrop of a raging sky.
Amazing grace in the midst of the storm.