Learning to Embrace the Storms

Lightning strikes at Kitty Hawk Fishing Pier, NC found at www.dlwaters.photoshelter.com













"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do." --Eleanor Roosevelt

I was terrified of thunderstorms throughout my childhood and well into my twenties. My fear began when I was around five. I was standing in a chair at the kitchen window looking towards the barn in hopes of seeing the mama skunk who lived there with her babies, when lightning suddenly struck the tall apple tree next to the barn, slicing it down the middle as if it were a warm stick of butter. I jumped down from the chair, ran to Aunt Mattie's bedroom and hid under the bed for several hours. She finally coaxed me out when I got hungry, but after that I'd always find a place to hide when a storm came up.

When I was eight, I lived briefly with my mother in Texas. She got sick one weekend and wanted me to walk to the grocery store to get her some cinnamon rolls. It was located across a field next to our apartment complex. A storm, however, was coming up, the thunder rumbling off in the distance and I was afraid to go outside. She informed me it was time to conquer my fear, grabbed my hand, put money into it, shoved me out the door and locked it behind me. She called out, "The faster you go, the quicker it will be over and you're not coming back in without them." I quickly walked to the edge of the complex, but the storm had grown much closer, the ground now shaking with each clap of thunder. I hid on a neighbor's back patio, covered my head and was afraid to look, afraid to move. When the neighbor opened the sliding door to speak to me, I was so afraid of being caught that I ran as fast as I could across the field to the store. I bought cinnamon rolls and ran back, thankful that lightning hadn't killed me and breathless from adrenaline and fear, I banged on our door and my mother opened it just enough for me to hand her the grocery bag. "These are the wrong damn kind," she shrieked at me and slammed the door. "Go back," she shouted but I refused. I sat down, leaning up against the door while the storm raged in front of me and the rain soaked me to the bone.

After that, the fear of storms was so great that I'd often hyperventilate if a storm came up, terror clogged in my throat, my entire body refusing to move until the danger passed. Amazingly, I was cured by this mind-numbing reaction to storms by two tiny little girls who looked to me for their everything. My little family was living in South Carolina, stationed at Shaw Air Force Base, and my girls were toddlers when their first nasty spring storm came up. A loud clap of thunder sent them flying through the house from the playroom to the living room where I was sitting and they grabbed hold of me, terrified! I picked them up, tucked them next to me on the sofa, and snuggled close. I sucked down my own fear, surprised at how easily it was to swallow in front of my babies, and assured them that while Mother Nature could be mighty and powerful, we were safe. My fear grew smaller and smaller and I've come to love watching the magnificent beauty of a wild, cleansing summer storm. Love conquered my fear and it's a lesson I will never forget.

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