The Sound of the Storm

My eldest, Nick, is aged 13.

He knocked the breath out of me, recently, when he wrote the following:

The big bang and then a huge flash,

The almost-but-not-quite annoying tapping
of raindrops on the street,

The sounds of the storm.

The sounds of the storm are almost rhythmic.

They are not in-tune,

And yet sound beautiful

Like dozens of monsters cackling at once

The sounds of the storm.

They gather amazing power,

And then flash

Yellow light engulfs the realm

And then bang

A loud, maniacal laugh penetrates all within sight

Then the tapping resumes,

Mindlessly hitting the grass and tar outside.

The sounds of the storm.

The Council of the Sounds gathers in the hall,

Unleashing their power through staffs

Made of bolts of the very lightning they release upon the Earth.

In the Council Chamber the Core of the Storm builds,

Infinite power, gathering in an orb fifty times the height of a human,

The red orb pulsates with the power of twelve mages,

White rings perimeter the diameter of the sphere,

They chant the sound of the raindrops, getting louder and louder,

The sounds of the storm.

The orb lifts and penetrates through the roof of the chamber,

Going through the crust of the earth.

It breaks through, and explodes into millions of fragments.

The hours passing are horrific, as it explodes and sends the thunder,

Exploding with the sound of many a-nightmare.

Next comes the lightning,


Beams of zigzagging yellow streak across the sky,

Ending up destroying the metal structure it ends up on,

Or by shocking the holder of the metal,

The sounds of the storm.

The council continues to chant,


Until the power orb dissipates.

Ending the sounds of the storm


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The stories that speak to our soul begin at a home where things are good. Cinderella is happy with her father. The three little pigs have grown up and are ready to move on. Bilbo Baggins knows his shire. Adam and Eve walk with God in the garden. My story isn’t much different. There was a time and a place where it was so good. There was a community for me. And there was joy. We were filled with a sincere desire to do what God wanted us to do. We possessed explanations and understandings that went a certain distance. We offered security and tradition and laughter. For a lot of years, that was enough. I have this sense that it was also necessary. I have this surety, now, that it certainly wasn’t everything. There were some things that became increasingly problematic as time went by. There was a desire to package things up so very neatly. Sunday morning services were efficient and strategic. Responses to differences of opinion were premeditated. Formula began to feel more important than being real. A real desire for everybody to be one of us, but also a real sense that there is an us, and there is a them. They carried a regret that it has to be this way, but deeper than this regret was a surety that this is how it is. I began to recognize that there was a cost of admission to that group. There were people who sat at the door, collecting it. Those people wished they didn’t have to. But I guess they felt like they did have to. They let some people in, and they left others out. There was a provisional membership. My friends did possess a desire to accommodate people that are different… But it would be best for everyone concerned if they were only a little bit different. I did make many steps forward in this place. Before I went there, there were lies that I believed. Some of the things that I learned there, I still hold on to. But that place is not my home anymore. Those people are not my community anymore. There were times it was hard. I am engaged in a different community now. And I am working hard at finding a place in many different places now, embracing many different kind of families. I don’t always get it right. I am trying and I am learning and I am moving foreward. I have this sense that I am not alone in these experiences. I believe that we are tribe and we are growing. We are pilgrims, looking for a new holy land. Perhaps we won’t settle on the same spot of land. But if you’ve read this far, I am thinking that we are probably headed in the same general direction. I have begun this blog to talk about where my journey is taking me. In every space, we find people who help us along. And maybe we can get to know each other, here. We embrace ideas that provide a structure for the things we believe, and perhaps we can share these too. Maybe we can form a group, a tribe, a community, if we can figure out a way to work through the shadow of these kinds of groups, if we can bigger than the us-and-them ideas that have caused so much trouble in the past. As important as they are, I think the very nature of online interactions will lend itself to something equally powerful. I am stumbling onto these practices that my grandfathers and great grandfathers in the faith engaged in. I am learning about these attitudes and intuitions are so different than the kinds of things we call doctrine today. I don’t know about you, but I am running out of patience, and even interest, in conversations about doctrine. I hope that maybe you’ll share a little something about where your journey is taking you, and maybe our common joys and challenges might help each other along, and we might lift each other up. Thanks for doing this journey with me.

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