Thunder

There is something extremely dissatisfying about a storm without the deafening result of thunder. Thunder is something that consistently reminds me of how small I actually am. I'm nothing in this world. I am simply a child; a child with hopes and dreams of becoming something bigger and better. I am the soil to this wonderful thing called earth.

Ironically, in my inadequacies, the thunder also teaches me that the being who created life itself, created it solely for me. And He would have done it for me, alone. Call me egotistical but I've come to realize that there are people are individually significant. We are known by the author of our lives.

And each etching of the pages He writes consists of a different template and font. We are unrivaled in one another. None alike. However, I am so appreciative that we are so unique. Our author's hand aches at each stroke we attempt to erase. Yet, I know He loves me. In my faults, weaknesses, strengths, and fortes. It's the process to understand this that is so tedious and everlasting.

We can read and read this book that is being divinely recorded. We can search with all of our strength but it ultimately comes down to this: We will have to learn our heritage through a process like the anticipation for thunder.

First, we start off with the wind. It rages, on and on. And then the silence before the change--which calls for pondering and gratitude. Then the rain. It slashes against the pavement yet the fragrance is so sweet. Soon, lightening. Brilliant light flashes across the night sky--sometimes day--creating a path amidst areas of darkness.

Silence comes. Again. We feel the beat of the thunder arise and brace ourselves. Then it happens. The crack so loud you feel it in your bones. And you feel small. So small and insignificant, yet so important to Him that loves us. But only after the cycle repeats.

The journey for me thus far consists of the prior. Never once does the storm hit without bringing me to humility as well as gratitude for the Almighty being. So what do I do in return? Think of my personal wealth, blessings, and virtue; Think of those whose fonts work so well with mine; Think of windy moments that make me fray around the edges; Think about the light directing my path in no particular direction apart from the good; think about the One who did it all for me.

So, in short, I am nothing. But to the true Master of thought, I am everything.