God's Fireworks

Wednesday night, I was glued to my radar screen. Huge thunderstorms -- the first severe ones of the summer -- were popping up all over southern Minnesota, very close to our still-on-the-market house. The screen was a swirl of green, yellow, red and even (gulp) maroon. There were even some tiny tornado signs on the map, with tiny arrows next to them, proposing a trajectory.

I wasn't so worried about our ex-home. In fact, we secretly pray that a selective tornado would blow the whole thing to smithereens (while leaving our few neighbors unscathed), because then the insurance company would cash us out and we would be free to move on. But I was concerned about our friends in those parts. Severe weather is the biggest rush to me -- but I know it's also very dangerous.

Because that part of the state isn't within the Twin Cities television area, I couldn't get any real news about what was going on. I just had to watch the radar loop and speculate on Facebook and Twitter. (I babble when I'm nervous.)

It was about this time that I heard Corey hissing my name up the stairs. The kids were asleep, the lights were off. I couldn't imagine what demanded my urgent attention.

Turns out, it was this.

In all my days of weather watching, I've never seen lightening like that. It just kept going and going and going. Corey said it reminded him of the grand finale of a fireworks show. That's a great analogy. We never heard thunder; the storm was too far away. But the clouds flashed and flared nonstop as long as we had the energy to stand on our tiny sidewalk and gawk. What awesome power is at the fingertips of our God. He is dazzling. Bravo.