I was afraid of storms when I was young. The sharp lightning and the loud clasps of thunder sent me heading for cover. I found comfort on the closest lap to me.
I would be assured that everything was all right and not to worry. At that age, I wasn’t too sure what worry was. I only knew if that was the way worry felt, I didn’t ever want to worry about anything.
The comfort I received did help, but was shattered by the next clasp of thunder. My dad would tell me that the thunder was the angels bowling or that another potato truck had dumped its potatoes. I probably believed my dad when he told me these things. I would believe anything if it kept me alive.
Looking back, I can remember my petrifying fear of storms. I imagine I used the “angel stories” with my kids, when they showed fear during a storm.
Often, in the storms of this life, there are moments when fear rises up within. As a small child, we need someone to comfort us and help us through it. We need someone to tell us everything will be all right.