''Til The Storm Passes Over ... '

I thought I liked thunderstorms. 

That is, until I was alone with one. 

I guess I wasn't technically alone. We have good neighbors within walking distance from us. But being the only person in a large, echoey three-story house is pretty much being alone. 

It was evening, and I was working on supper. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. Lately, I've been feeling like I could do better making a nice evening meal, and that day I was determined to do it right. (Not only that, but all the food would turn out perfectly as well. That's been a struggle too, but Eric would say I'm just being too much of a perfectionist.)

While I mixed up the meatloaf, I saw rain pouring on the mountain range in the distance. One of my favorite things is to watch the rain move across the mountain in beautiful sheets. Occasional rumbles of thunder made it through the kitchen window. Thunderstorms are oddly relaxing. They ARE! But sometimes just at a distance. 

I stepped outside on the porch to video the sheets of rain traveling across the mountain. No sooner had I closed the door than a bolt of lightning struck much too close for comfort. It was immediately followed by a tremendous clap of thunder which was simultaneously followed by a shriek and the slam of the porch door as I leaped back inside. 

(I know I'm 22, but I have a great and terrible respect for lightning.)

Soon thereafter, I began to realize that whatever this oddly relaxing cloud formation was, it had decided to come for me. That wasn't quite as oddly comforting because now it was starting to get dark. The thunder was eery, the wind was picking up, and my childhood fear of tornadoes was returning. 

Then I started worrying about the electricity. I had just put my meatloaf in the oven. What if the power went out and all my efforts of a perfectly delightful supper were ruined. What would I do? It couldn't happen. It just couldn't!

To the side of the house, lightning struck even closer than before. The house almost vibrated with the thunder. This was terrifying! What was I supposed to do? I needed to wash the potatoes, but I hardly dared to stick my hands under running water for fear of being electrocuted. (I have a very great and terrible respect for lightning.) Don't ask how I washed my potatoes. It wasn't that bad; just a little ridiculous for a grown 22 year old.

The wind picked up mightily, and our old house began to groan and creak ominously. Wind whistled through a crack in the porch door. It started to sprinkle outside, and I was beginning to worry that lightning would strike the house. Listen, before you label me with a severe case of paranoia, hear me out. If you were a bolt of lightning, wouldn't a really tall three-story house be tempting?

See, I thought so. 

I wanted Eric to come home! And I didn't want to be alone! But most of all I didn't want to be scared of this enormous thunderstorm because people who are old enough to be married shouldn't be such wimps. (Oh, and I was also still worrying about the electricity and my meatloaf. I said a little prayer for it.)

I DID manage to survive the howling wind, the sheets of torrential rain, and the thunder. But I WAS very happy when Eric walked in the door, and I was no longer alone. 

We sat down to a steaming meatloaf with plenty of delicious sauce on top (I was very grateful God saw fit to have mercy on me and my oven), broccoli that needed a bit more salt, and mashed potatoes which were seasoned perfectly but were quite colder than my liking. A perfect meal? Not quite to my standard, but close enough because Eric was happy and said it was his favorite. 

We were finishing up the meal, and I headed into the kitchen to pull some cookies out of the freezer for dessert. The sunshine filtering through the clouds after the rain distracted me from the freezer and drew me to the back door. I gasped. Because there was a rainbow. There was only a piece, but it was flaming and brilliant. I forgot about the cookies. Eric left the dining room, and we went outside for a better look. 

I instantly forgot how dramatic and terrible thunderstorms are because the afterglow was magical. The whole earth was drenched in precipitation. The grass sparkled and glowed wherever the sun struck. The air was warm and damp. Clouds were rising from the Blue Ridge Mountains beneath that gorgeous curve of color. And spanning a stretch of mountains were elegant rays of sun. I thought maybe my heart might burst with happiness. 

Before the storm, I had thought about taking a walk after supper. Once it started raining, I gave up the idea. But now, walking to the end of the lane seemed like the only logical option. I can't even tell you how beautiful it was. At first, we were behind the shadow of the house and trees. Beyond the shadows was a brilliant, golden haze of light. All the water droplets sparkled. All the low-hanging clouds moved softly. The damp air now felt cool. 

It felt like redemption. 

There were some puddles in the lane that I had to splash in. Maybe I am 22, but I think part of me is still a child. By the time we got back to the house, the sun had slipped behind the mountains. I cleaned the table and started the dishwasher. Then we ate our cookies. It was dark outside, but I think my heart was still sparkling.

Maybe I do like thunderstorms after all.