I Hear the Rolling Thunder
Ever since I was little, I have loved thunderstorms. Back at my New England home, they were something of a treat in the summertime evenings when me and my family would gather in our upstairs storage room and look out the windows overlooking our backyard. We would crane our heads around the windows, looking for the first brief flashes of the lightning, then dutifully count the Mississippis until we heard that great rolling of thunder, which shook the house. They never fail to instill a great awe in me. It was my representation of what God was. An invisible force that moves through...