I recently stayed the night in the most beautiful house I think I have ever been in. Seriously, this house was BEYOND amazing. Every room had a magnificent view of Lake Keowee, and it just so happened the evening I stayed was a stormy one.
When we first arrived, our hostess told us that normally you could see a rugged mountain range in the distance (which made the lot one of the best on the lake). Due to the fog and impending storm, you could not even see an outline of said mountain range on this particular evening.
We ate dinner and settled in for a chick flick as the storm clouds rolled in. As many of you know from my previous posts, I LOVE storms! The thunder and lightning began right as we finished up and headed to bed. In my big, comfy bed I had a perfect view of the lake and storm that had arrived. Lightening flashed, creating firework sparkles on the mirrored surface of the water. Hundreds of thoughts were coursing through my head, and I was trying hard to lose myself in the storm, but I couldn’t. I know that probably sounds crazy, wanting to lose myself in a storm, but I would have rather been lost in the physical storm than in the mental one that was raging.
In prayer I cried out to God. I cried out for peace, for comfort, for him to show his mightiness in my current situation. Looking out as the rain danced on the glass, lightning struck. For the first time, though, it was farther away. It was behind the mountain range. Suddenly, the mysterious range was jutting into the sky, outlined by the flash of lightning.
Then, my heart was still, and I heard it.
Sometimes, the lightning has to strike in our storm so that we can see the protection that is around us.
(I’ll be honest, my jaw dropped.)
I grabbed a blanket and hurried over to the window to see if it would happen again. “Nope, just once is all you need”, is what I heard. (Okay, then I laughed!)
I crawled back into that plush bed, pulled the blankets up, laid back on the pillows and fell asleep watching the storm. My heart was still. My mind was clear. I knew that he had already showed himself, and that he was still there . . .
just like the phantom mountain.