I believe this morning was the first occasion the low rumbles of (non-threatening) thunder, along with the pitter patter of drops hitting the window actually inspired me to get out of bed. Typically, these sounds beckon me to remain in my cozy nest, and, quite honestly, my headaching and slightly-nauseated pregnant self partially wished to follow the old patterns and let the other three head off to church without me. But the excited words of my daughter when my husband entered her room, "It's a storm!" - the likes of which we have not seen here in these parts for the better part of two months - were too much to ignore.
So as I heard him, infant in hand, and happy, pajamed little girl in tow, opening the front door so they could take a look, I needed to be there as well. And when that same happy girl refused to go eat breakfast, begging, instead, to get her feet wet, I had to open the glass door for her, so we could all, in p.j.'s and bare feet, enjoy this glorious blessing together.
What better way to begin the Lord's Day than by basking in His goodness pouring down?