Rolling Thunder

My not-so-fat-anymore wiener dog J.R. is terrified of thunder. I'm not talking just a little nervous or frightened when there is a loud clap or a sudden boom. I'm talking even a small little rumble, and he's shaking all over and finding somewhere to hide. When he first came to live with me, he was afraid of everything and everyone. He's improved so very much (I can actually vacuum now without him having a meltdown), but when it comes to thunder, fear consumes him.

Last weekend, we had rain and some thunder here in Kansas City. It was pretty minor compared to some of the storms I've lived through since moving here over 20 years ago, but there was a low rolling thunder that pierced the evening air. J.R. jumped from his perch in my lap and took off for the bedroom looking for a place where he would feel safe and secure. When I went to find him, he had his head and half of his body under my bed, shaking for all he was worth. I pulled him from his hiding spot, wrapped him a blanket, held him close and rocked him until his shaking subsided.

As we rocked, I had one of those "ah ha" moments ... you know the ones, when you realize a great truth that may well change who you are for the remainder of your life. I began to think of the thunder in my life, of the drenching rain that at times seems to be pursuing and following me, of my desire to run away and find a place to hide.

And as J.R. snuggled his head into the crook of my arm and finally drifted off to sleep, I had a profound revelation, a moment of truth. He felt safe and secure in my arms, cradled against me, tightly held, warm and safe. In the midst of the storm, he had found his spot ... his hiding place ... his refuge. In his fear, his port in the storm didn't shift or move ... J.R. was the one who ran and hid.

When the thunder rolls across the plains of my life, my knee-jerk response is to run and hide, to allow the fear to overtake me, to claim me, to disable me. And yet, my spot, my hiding place, my refuge never moves, never runs away, never leaves me or forsakes me. My God is bigger than the storms, stronger than the thunder and more than able to keep me safe and secure. He is always there, even in the middle of the drenching rain and the rolling thunder.

He is God ... and He is there.