Last night, we had one of those incredible thunderstorms wash over us, the kind that Texas and Oklahoma are famous for. The kind that births tornadoes.
We desperately needed the rain and all day that is what I asked for. Rain but no tornadoes, please. Dear God, no tornadoes.
I got my wish but elsewhere, less than two hours from here, they were not so lucky. 6 confirmed dead, dozens injured, hundreds homeless. This morning as I look with gratitude at my soaked garden and pastures, the flowers bright and happy after a long drink, the yellowing grass already green as Ireland again, others are sifting through broken belongings, looking at the iron sky through roofless homes and shattered windows, stumbling over splintered walls in shock and disbelief.
I've always loved thunderstorms. The electricity in the air, the blustering winds, the pelting rain, the booming and rolling of thunder and the blinding flashes of jagged light. It made me feel alive, the furor of Nature. It made feel like I was on fire with some unnamed desire and I should be standing on a towering ledge and scream with ferocity as the storm came galloping on hooves of thunder, whipped by hail.
Now I sit in prayer and scour the horizon with every flash of light that illuminates the darkness. Scour the horizon for any crooked fingers reaching down for the earth, twisting and jabbing at tender, vulnerable spots. Wonder if I should keep the horses in or out, what is safer? A roof over their heads against the stinging hail or worse - the deadly strike of a lightning bolt? Or the freedom to run should a tornado hit? Our storm shelter, after all, is only just big enough for us and 5 dogs.............
I know it's just the way of nature. I know it's part and parcel of life around here. But some days it makes me wonder. Some days, I miss getting to simply sit and enjoy a fine thunderstorm.
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