Monday, October 6, 2014

a stormy night

In my part of the world the day dawned brightly enough yesterday, had gone grey by lunchtime, and was looking positively grim by tea-time. I had to head out around six to preach at a Harvest Thanksgiving - there was a light drizzle as I left the rectory which had turned into a steady downpour by the time I reached the church which had turned in a full-on storm by the time the service was over.

The thing is, I rather like storms. I like seeing huge trees swaying back and forth, their leaves flying about like confetti, the wind trying to tear my hair out by the roots, and the cold rain slapping into my face like something out of a cosmic ice-bucket challenge. I find it invigorating; it reminds me of how small we really are in the scheme of things; and since they are going to happen anyway, I might as well enjoy it. It isn't as if grumbling about them is going to make storms go away. And liking them doesn't make them happen.

When I got home the two youngest were in bed but still awake. After prayers (including ones for the safety of all travelling in the wind and the rain), I said:
'Have you looked out the window at the storm?'
We turned off the lights and drew back the curtains. The boys talked excitedly about the tree-branches whipping back and forth. Discussions were had about which trees if they fell might hit our house or the ones next door, hit the cars in the drive, hit the garden wall, or hit the power lines and cut off our electricity. Then one said:
'Can we go out in it?'
'Just for a minute?'
I eyed them in their jim-jams and thought about it. Probably quicker to do it than argue. And why not let them experience the stormy blast?
'Ok, why not? Get your coats and shoes.'

Excited scampering down the stairs followed. Coats and shoes were grabbed and donned. Daddy grabbed a heavy tweed hat also. Out we went into the rain and wind. A small bit of dancing about followed. A closer examination of potentially dangerous trees followed. Then:
'It's cold. Can we go back in?'

Perhaps 30 seconds had passed in all. Far less time than the arguing and whining would have gone on for if I'd said no. 

Back in we went. Smallest decided his coat was so warm and snuggly that it was just the thing for a cold and stormy night. Back in bed, tucked in again, and freshly kissed I asked them:
'Did you enjoy that?'
'Yes, daddy,' said both.

Ah yes. As I said, I rather enjoy storms. 

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