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Thunderstorms

It is raining this morning. I woke to the sound of a loud roll of thunder, and it reminds me of the way my mother taught me not to be afraid of thunderstorms.
One afternoon when I was about ten, a big thunderstorm came rolling in. When one particularly loud boom shook the house, I ran to mom, curling up to her for comfort.
She told me that we were going to watch nature at work that day, and she got a blanket from the closet. After opening the front door, she spread that blanket out in front of the glass storm door, and told me to lie down beside her on it.
As the storm raged with fury, lightening and thunder filled the sky. We laid there watching, while mom explained how the rain would water flowers and crops, and that the lighting was a beautiful fireworks show. With each bolt of lightning, mom would exclaim over how pretty it was.
We stayed there until the storm blew away, and I had lost my fear.  My mother let me know that storms could be dangerous if you went outside during one, but that sitting and watching a storm from a safe place could be exciting.
That's how I grew up to enjoy thunderstorms. The fury of the wind, the growl of the thunder, and the brilliance of the lighting thrill me, as the rain soothes me. I am at peace with nature, even in all of it's loudest moments.

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