The Thunder Woke me Up.

The thunder woke me up, and the lightning lit my room. I can't think of a better way to be stirred for the day, can you? The drops outside my window are heavy and full and constant and sing like a melody I once knew but forgot.

You are unmistakable.

Today will be a long day, I know. It stretches out before me holding lists to complete, meetings to attend, friends to call, exams to pass, and papers to write. This day boasts of length of work and brevity of time and its sound makes my soul just a little bit weary. Today, in the bustle of things I know I will forget again; life will get loud and I will loose Your song amidst other, poorer refrains. In the library under the silent glare of the clock, I'm sure I will flack at Your presence. As I'm writing my Greek exam, trying to recall that vocabulary word I never quite got right, I'm certain I will reduce Your word to a translation and a grade. Later on, under the pressure of friendships and the strain of distances too long, I will reject the notion of Your goodness and, rather, insist You give me that for which my heart is aching.

But not here.

Not here.

No, here, before this open window with raindrops quietly sneaking their way in, there is no flacking, reducing or rejecting. Here, in the morning rain, with every drop and every peal of thunder comes the harmonic assurance of Your faithfulness. As the water comes and nourishes the earth, my souls responds, "Of course. Of course You nourish me. Of course You do." The sound of constant rain washes over my heart and it sighs, "Yes. You, too, will be constant today."

Perhaps it is this fidelity that will break through the hours and the silence and the to-dos of today and insist I recall the melody of Your presence. And if I don't hear or won't sing along, send the thunder to wake me up again.