Still

The Hub ran out to the outbuilding for something last night, and came back to call me out into the back yard to see something. He had the excited look of a child on his face, so I knew it must be something pretty cool.

There were thunderstorm warnings out, but the sky was mostly clear. The stars twinkled brightly and the near-full moon bathed the countryside with a haunting blue glow. And there, to the right of the moon - there it was.

An enormous lone thunderhead towered high above the earth. It churned and lurched lazily. And most remarkable of all, it flickered. It flickered and flashed, illuminated from within by its own electricity and casting out delicate spindly fronds of lightning. Gentle, pulsating illuminations, punctuated with rudely bright blasts of light. I’ve never seen such busy electrical activity within one cloud in my life.

We watched the light show for a long time.

As we watched, the thunderhead slowly approached the moon. And yet another sight I’d never seen took place in front of my eyes. As the cloud passed in front of the moon, from around the edges spilled moonbeams. As defined and distinctive as sunbeams, bright columns of moonlight burst around the confines of the cloud’s edges as its distinct shadow slid through the very air above.

To add to the drama, there was the silence. Silence of the air, silence of the nocturnal wildlife, and silence of the storm. No cracks, no roll of thunder. Not a sound. It was absolutely, overwhelmingly majestic.

My only thought was,
“Be still, and know that I am God.”