Thunderheads, massive and billowing, build up over the mountain tops. The air hangs heavy with the promise of rain. Lightning crackles and lights up the night sky some 40 miles distant.

Will it come? Will it go around? Will the thirsty ground get watered?
The wind picks up and rain begins to fall. Oh, Praise God!

A friend,visiting from Pennsylvania, exclaims “I love it! You can’t watch storms come in where I live! It’s exciting and at the same time makes you feel insignificant!”

The words of the hymn say it best: “I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, Thy pow’r thru-out the universe displayed, then sings my soul, my Savior God to thee, How great thou art, How great thou art!” (Hine, 1953)

We shut off the lights, listen to the drumming of rain on the roof, and sit in the dark watching the fireworks. I go to bed smiling, and fall asleep listening to the sound of rain.

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