As I type, I am in the midst of a good ol' fashioned midwest thunderstorm. The midnight sky is lit up like a Christmas tree, the contrast low rumble of thunder broken up by the occassional window-shaking boom, and rain falling in sheets. It's great! Unless, of course, you are my eight year old daugther, who is currently trying to sleep on the couch.
She's shook up, not just about the weather, but about leaving too. She came downstairs crying tonight and when I asked her if she was alright, she said, in between sobs, "I just want to go home." I guess reality is setting in for all of us -- this really isn't home -- for her or us. I asked her if home could be anywhere where Mom and Dad were and she wasn't sure. Sometimes, there's just no place like your own bed.
So, we'll all miss things. I'll miss the phenomonal power and awe-inspiring beauty that only a thunderstorm rolling across the prairie can provide. Bethany will miss the comfort of her bed. At least for awhile we'll miss these things and then we'll learn to appreciate new things.
Our new house will become our new home with her old bed and a new beauty will captivate my attention. Right now, though, I need to take a peek outside and watch this spectacular God-given light show. It could be the last one I see for a while on these windswept plains of Iowa.
David Wagoner's "Lost"*
11 hours ago