Life in Our Third-Story Apartment

I don’t know whether the noise or the light woke us, because they happened simultaneously. My best guess is that lightning struck somewhere around the parking lot outside our building. I’d been in the middle of a trippy nightmare (as usual) and Mike, also as usual, had been sleeping the peaceful sleep of a baby. The light was blinding and the sound was like a massive explosion and suddenly we were both awake, sitting up, and literally screaming in terror. The roller coaster I experienced this summer was nothing in comparison. It took me fifteen minutes to stop shaking and over an hour to get back to sleep.

When I was finally calm enough to venture to the bathroom or at least not to picture exploding buildings whenever I closed my eyes, Kilby’s annoying little poem came to mind–the one she wrote when she was about three. The nerve of a three year old not being scared of thunder!

Lightning is God’s arrows.
Thunder is God’s voice.
Rain is God’s blessing.
In this we will rejoice.

All I have to say is God has a loud voice, and I have a new appreciation for what the prophets went through when they “fell on their faces” when He revealed Himself to them.


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