This morning, the sun is shining and it is going to be another beautiful day. Our fish, Steve, a 5 inch-long piranha, is hitting his thermometer against the wall of his tank in weak protest that it is too small for him. (It is. Unfortunately, in order to get a tank big enough for him at this point, it would cost $150 and the tank would barely fit anywhere in the apartment, since it would be four feet long!) I miss Michael while he is at work, but today I am looking forward to being able to just write thank-you’s, work out, reply to emails and relax. Most likely I will call some people, too, but with the time difference, that activity usually has to wait until the afternoon so as I’m sure to avoid waking anyone up on the west coast! When in doubt about not hearing from me, it might be best to just give me a quick call; I’m usually up by 5:30am Pacific Time, so go crazy!
Last night I was awoken by the faint noises (we always have two fans on while we sleep; our bedroom is always the warmest in the apartment) of a pretty windy storm outside. At first I was a bit alarmed, especially when I saw the lightning flashes and how big they must be. So I decided to get up for a minute and see what all the fuss was about. We get windstorms back home, but not as much thunder and lightning as they do down here, let alone of the same size. As I stood at our living room windows, watching the trees get blown about like grass and hearing the thunder booming like drums, the first lightning strike came—and it was absolutely stunning. To see the kind of lightning that is depicted in those ridiculous airplane-magazine framed motivational art pieces (“Perservere: It will pay off” or whatever else they say) was truly breathtaking. It was terrifying, too, because it was obvious that the strikes were relatively close to us. However, after a few of them I realized that there was no point whatsoever in minding about that—if weather is going to be the death of us then there isn’t any point “guetting” it (a French word which means to await expactantly, often with anxiety). Moments after I said a quiet prayer to God asking for one last great one before I returned to bed, the whole sky was illuminated by veins of light, and my face by a smile. His Creation is truly stunning and I am thankful for moments of shock and awe to remind me.
The verse in the title is one that I read upon opening up the Bible this morning after my alarm had gone off. It’s been a great week, but Michael and I have been working through a lot of issues couples run into living together for the first time, so it’s been mentally and spiritually tiring. My worrisome side has also been jumping ahead to August and my move to Chicago, wondering how it’s going to go, if my class is going to like me. I’m not worried at all about graduate classes, though...which is slightly ironic, since that is what I’m going there to do. All of that to say that the verse was encouraging in a very simple way and I am thankful for it to start my day off.