Sometimes God gives you what you need, not what you think you need or what you want – and that seems to be the case for me these days. Yesterday, as I was perched on the top of a ladder, a power sander pressed to the spackle on my basement ceiling, the power cut off – and it cut out hard. We didn’t get electricity again for two hours. Once I had carefully climbed down from the ladder and unplugged the sander so as not to accidentally sand the ladder itself when power was restored, I was left with little to do besides read and write. And that’s just what I did – what a glorious gift. By the time, the power was back on, it was too late in the day to really tackle the basement – at least too late on a Sunday – and I just took it easy the rest of the night.

Also, the storm poured so much water into the creek below my house that I could hear it loudly through my then-open screen door. I love the sound of running water. Plus, the air cooled off so much that I could open the house up, turn off the air, and glory in the night of crickets. I still have all the windows open, and another storm is approaching. I intend to work in the basement again today, but perhaps the thunderstorms will prevent me again – wouldn’t that be lovely.

There’s just something about thunderstorms that I love. When I was a kid, my dad used to take my brother and I walking through them – ostensibly to clean out the storm drains around our mountain neighborhood but really because he knew the glory of being out in that charged air (I’m not sure that my mom loved this, but she never complained and, since I have no memory of doing so myself, washed up our clothes for us). We would pound through deep, deep puddles, almost hoping the drains were clogged with leaves so that we could jump into knee-deep puddles. . . I remember one space near the Rose of Sharon bushes at a corner – it always clogged, and Jeremy and I would jump in and dig the leaves out with our feet. What a great memory.

It was so great for my brother – the composer – that he even wrote a song about it and gave it to my brother as a Christmas present one year. My dad cried – that’s one of the things that makes my dad great – and so did I. Jeremy doesn’t have this particular song up on his website, but if you like minimalist beauty, check this piece out.

So today, I sit at my desk and watch a much milder storm than yesterday build outside. . . the sky is that silver gray of light rain, and the air is tickling my nose with promise. There’s no charge like that which comes before one of those gut-busting storms like we had yesterday. The air on my arms isn’t floating, but today, just the rain would be enough to remind me that power – and today, that would be enough.

“Evening Storm near Asheville” by Alumay Design.