Waking from a nightmare, the narriator continues her story.
| Something, some unknown sound, woke me that first night. I lay|
awake, heart racing, trying to figure out where I was and what woke me. A
flash of lightening suddenly illuminated the room and with its flash came
memories of other storm riddled nights.
I remembered the nights that I lay awake and prayed for the rain to
end. Nights when I went to the barn to check on the roof. I remembered the
nights when the land above us flooded and sent a river of water across our
front yard, the night we came home and found that the storm had pushed the
fence down. I remembered how we spent a hour trying to repair it and how
we looked for the baby goats that were in that fence. I remembered pulling
one of the bucks out of the mud in the downpour, and how relieved we were
when we found our first born buck kid alive and well. Then came the
memories of other starlight nights. The nights when my husband and I
moved our bed under the window so we could watch meteor showers, nights
when we went out in the dead of winter to look at the full moon, amazed at
the vastness and grandeur of God’s handiwork.
Getting up I went to the window hoping for a glimpse of the storm
during the next lightening flash and jumping at the clap of thunder that
followed it. It sounded so close, so ominous. I found myself fighting back
the tears and the fear that came during every storm; not fear of the storm
itself, for once I had loved storms and found them beautiful. It was just that
in the last ten years I had been through so many storms that resulted in death
and destruction that now, when a storm hit, I could feel my stomach clench
with the dread of losing something else.
Reaching for my Bible and searched until I reached Psalms 91 where
1 He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide
under the shadow of the Almighty. 2 I will say of the LORD, He is my
refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. 3 Surely he shall deliver
thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. 4 He
shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his
truth shall be thy shield and buckler. 5 Thou shalt not be afraid for the
terror by night; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday
I thought about our setting hen. Thinking how carefully she tended
her young and how gently she folded them under the warmth of her wings,
protecting them from harm. Somehow the thought of God tucking me under
his wings in protection felt wonderful.
Tucking my legs under me in the chair I listened to the rain falling
outside and wondered what tomorrow would bring. I thought again about
the man that drove me here and compared him to my husband, wondering
just what had gone wrong in our marriage. Fighting off the self-doubts I
always had when I thought of him I prayed that he was in good health and
that he was happy.
Stretching I stood and started to unpack my things, after putting them
away I walked to the window and looked out. The rain had stopped.
Checking the time I realized that it was early morning. Knowing that I
wouldn’t sleep even if I were to lay back down, I straighten the bed and
dressed. I braided my hair and clipped my scarf over it, then I stepped
outside and tried to decide what to do.
As I stood, I listened to the stirring of birds , the snort of a horse some
distance away, then I heard a donkey bray. I had to smile at that bray, it
made me feel like I was back home listening to the neighbors silly donkey
that brayed day and night. I watched as the sky began to lighten from the
darkest midnight blue, to a steeley blue gray and then the threads of pink
and the bluest of blues began to work their way across the heavens. I
watched as the last of the bats went to roost, then I heard a rooster flap his
wings from his perch in a nearby tree and proceed to crow. Slowly, bit by
bit, the ranch began to come alive with morning activities. I felt a peace
steal over me as a deep bubbling of excitement began to well it’s way up
from the recess’s of my soul.