Storms

The last few days we've had thunder storms in the area--the kind of storms that prompt numerous warnings and interruptions of favorite TV shows. I have NEVER been a fan of storms, to put it mildly. In recent years I've become braver and decided that I will feign disinterest in warnings for the sake of my children, but this week has tested that resolution.



So the other night when the storms rumbled once again, I heard a little voice call out in a desperate tone, "Mommy! Mommy!" I decided this was one of those "Mommy" calls that was serious and not one that could be ignored. Grant was standing up, looking towards the window with big eyes. He may now have 51 (or so) words (refer to this post), but "I'm scared of thunder" are not any of them. He did, however, make a "boom"-type sound when I asked what was wrong. Poor thing! So I took him out of the crib and rocked him in the chair, at which point Jack decided to join us, not because he was scared but because he wanted to cuddle, too. Can I say at that point I was thankful for the storm? I think there is nothing sweeter than snuggling with my jammied boys, and it was a special time of singing and praying and talking about God and how he will keep us safe. In the end, the storm passed, our house stood firm, and the boys returned to their beds (though not without protests from Grant). I will always cherish the memory of that time with my children. God is good!