Thunderstruck

I have never in my life
heard thunder like that we heard last night.
It was so loud and just so different. You wouldn't think
thunder could have a different sound. I mean, what does
thunder sound like?
Thunder! Right?
It's thunderous. But last night it was different.
Louder. Closer.
More theatrical.
Almost musical.
Amazing.

I will confess to you, at this moment,
that I do not like darkness. Not total darkness.
Whenever my mother-in-law comes to visit, she goes
all over the house removing the nightlights we have put
in place. She's the type of person who had to find and
purchase a clock for her bedside with
this extremely dim light. I think you have to have
a flashlight to be able to read it.
And you know how disco ball BRIGHT
those alarm clocks are.
But I'm just saying that some people want
total darkness.
The bathroom light on at the neighbor's house
disturbs their sleep.
Not me.
I can sleep with the lights on.
I am a big fan of night lights.
I've never been awakened by the
annoying glare of an overly bright alarm clock.

So last night...with the storm and the unusual thunder
and all that...the power went off. There was a big crack
of lightening, a large boom somewhere in the distance,
and the power went off.
The A/C's gently whirring fan was off.
The computer was no longer humming.
The nightlights thought my mother-in-law was here.
It was dark. Very dark.
I was thankful for the lightening
because I don't like total darkness.
I wouldn't really know if my children are afraid of the dark
because I never really subject them to total darkness.
Is it a fear?
I don't think so.
I mean, I'm not afraid. I just don't like it.
Maybe it is a fear. I don't know.
I know that is one of the aspects of hell that makes me
glad I won't be there (I suppose every aspect of hell
makes me glad I'm not headed there, if you think about it).
The utter darkness forever would be enough.
Combine that with torture and torment and
separation from God and no hope.
It's just too horrible to think about.
That always makes me think of that example people give
of a bridge being out. You come upon it and just happen
to see that the bridge is out in time to stop.
But it's getting dark and people come speeding down
this road and you know they won't see in time.
You have an obligation to warn them.
You go out in the road and do
whatever you can
to make people stop so they don't have to meet
that disaster. That's the way we are to be warning people
--people who don't have the hope of salvation found in Jesus.
It seems like in this day and age, so many people don't even
want to entertain the thought that the bridge might be out.
They are having so much fun driving along,
they don't want to stop.
They don't want to be warned.
They want to drive along happy in their comfortable car
and just face whatever may come.
They are complacent and content with their blindness.
But we still have a responsibility to warn them.
To tell them that the bridge is out.

I know that's not a perfect example.
Don't shoot it full of holes.
I think you can get the point.

Well, it's Monday morning.
I am working on my mission field here
with my four little heathens.
(just kidding--kind of)
We have school underway.
Baby J was ready and begging to go down for his morning
nap already. He's had several days of running and I know
he's tired. This week should just be one of staying home
and being on our routine. I've got a literal mountain of
laundry calling my name. And I was eying the ironing
this morning. I'm going to have to have an encounter
with that too. I'm also wanting to make some
homemade bread today to go with our supper tonight.
So I'd better quit sitting here talking to you
and get busy.
You know those kids are not quite as focused
on their school work when I am up here
as when I am down there within arm's reach of them.
So let me go help them with their focus.

And you have a lovely day, Dear Reader.