Blog Post: When the Sky Speaks and We Listen

Blog Post: When the Sky Speaks and We Listen

This evening, the sky didn’t whisper—it boomed.

Thunder rolled through the neighborhood like a warning and a welcome all at once. Lightning cracked so close it made the windows tremble. For a few moments, it was hard to tell whether the shaking came from the sky—or from within me.

There’s something about thunderstorms that commands stillness. They make us close the laptops, pause the chores, and look up. They remind us that there’s power we don’t control, beauty we didn’t create, and rhythms we’re meant to surrender to.

Tonight, I didn’t try to work through it. I didn’t try to distract myself.

I sat in it—with my family.

We folded laundry. Pulled out bags. Chose the clothes we’ll wear for tomorrow’s trip. We listened to the thunder. Moved slower. Laughed deeper.

And then—I snuck around the house.

Bella was sitting in the garage, totally relaxed. I went out the front door, crept around the side, and waited just long enough to give her a good scare. When I popped out, she screamed like lightning had hit the driveway. I cracked up. She laughed—after she caught her breath. And Barbi came outside with that “What just happened?!” face.

Just a scare.

Just a moment.

But those little bursts of joy? They stay with you.

That’s what storms can do when you let them: they slow you down enough to make room for mischief, memory, and meaning.

So tonight, I’m not just packing bags.

I’m packing presence.

And tomorrow, we’ll carry it forward.