An evening thunderstorm in spring.

The hot summer’s night air was pushed aside so quickly the experience was not unlike dropping into a cool pool of water in the heat of the day. Chills began to run from the exposed parts of our bodies where minute’s earlier perspiration shone.

We sat on the front porch facing north wrapped in blankets and opened sleeping bags watching as a mid-spring thunderstorm rumbled past spiking jagged shards of lightning into the ground and from cloud to cloud with sudden violent beauty. The smell of ozone and wet dust filled the air.

Earlier I had become a little melancholy and just a little morose as I pondered the recent departure of two of my children from our immediate family and my inability to maintain my relationship with them in the close loving way every parent should know and experience. I caught myself wishing that they were there to share in the moment.

With the sudden stab of blue-white lightning zigzagging across the blue black sky my thoughts were brought back to ground and the awareness of those whom I love who by their choice were present in that moment. I consciously took hold of the memory in the discussions of God and Jesus bowling to make the thunderous sounds and the rain beginning in the eyes of the angels crying with delight in the sport.

In that moment a gift was given. The gift was the memory of a warm spring night, a violently beautiful thunder storm and the loving reminder of understanding and appreciation from our most recent addition to family… Vanessa.