storm's sabbath

last night, lightning flashed off in the sky as i hustled home. when i got in, i started to go about my business as usual. i scuttled about, unpacking my bag, putting things away, getting something to eat... all the while, the storm approached, getting more and more intense. a memory beckoned me to look back at the times i spent with my grandmother down south. every time a thunderstorm came through as they are apt to do on long summer afternoons, she would turn off the television and everything else but the refrigerator, and just sit. my cousins and i had to just sit with her. you see, when a storm came, we sat still and silent, because it was the Creator's turn to talk and our turn to listen. in my youth, i thought that was nice and all, and rather quaint, but storms had a funny way of messing with my cartoons that i didn't appreciate. and i didn't hear nothing but thunder anyway. so far as my opinion went, my grandma was just being old, country, and superstitious. i respected her, but not so much what she was doing. once i almost had my life ended prematurely, because i asked my grandma to explain further. patience wasn't my strong suit. apparently, neither was good sense.

there was something about that memory that made me put my book down, get into a quiet dark place, open the blinds in the midst of the night, and lie there, quietly watching the sky, feeling the rumbling of thunder, and acknowledging God. it was good for me. the elder i wax, the wiser the elders appear.