Trust

It's a strange dichotomy, this situation.

I'm sitting on my bedroom floor. I need to go to Walmart, as late as it is, but the rain is coming down in sheets and the line of the storm that is rapidly approaching...well, we've got about fifteen minutes. And I'm not going to leave Mandy and Al alone in that.

I'm afraid. Just a little. But...afraid.

A few moments ago, there was a loud, low peal of thunder that lasted for perhaps thirty seconds. And I sat up on my bed and tensed, praying that it would die away. At ten seconds, I was up and out of my bedroom; at fifteen I was listening out the door, praying that it would die. At twenty-five seconds I was tensed and ready to move, adrenaline trickling down my arms--and then it died. Just thunder. Nothing else.

Of all the things I fear on the natural disasters list, tornados are actually pretty low. But we're here, in this flimsy trailer, and I have no way to protect them if something happens. It...makes me angry.

So. Angry and afraid. And trusting. That's the dichotomy. That's why I'm afraid but not frantic--was never frantic, even when I thought I heard what I was dreading. Trust isn't so easy to come by this way--but it's there, I can feel it. I'm thankful for that. Just to trust.

I typed that last word...and the world went quiet. I just got up and went outside; the rain is still on my face. The storm is gentle now, and the thunder is dying away. I even went and checked the radar--the red coming from the west of  us has disappeared. There's only scattered yellow.

I think that someday the trust will be so big that fear won't even have a place near it. I'd like that, very much.