Forgettable Moments

I’m so proud of our youngest daughter.

This morning, I sat with Makayla in the car waiting for her bus to arrive. Strong thunderstorms had moved her from her upstairs bedroom and into the basement at some point during the night. She’s always felt anxiety with storms, especially after a large tree crashed through the roof of her room a couple of years ago. Luckily, she was in the basement for that one, as well.

It was still raining, and raining hard, with highlights of rolling thunder and flashing lightning. Loud cracks of thunder generally set anyone on edge, and it’s extremely challenging for her.

But she arose without much of a fight this morning and readied herself for the day, and for her ride on the bus. This would have been emotionally protested in years past, particularly in dark stormy weather. 

Now on the living room couch, she asked, “Dad, do you think you can drive me to the street, so I don’t have to wait in the rain?”

“Yep,” I said and nodded.

The garbage truck had arrived during the deluge. The flashes of lightning outlined its huge hulking form as it grabbed and lifted our cans overhead and shook them clean into its bin. It seemed like a menacing mechanical monster devouring its prey in some dark horror movie, the metal rattling, hydraulic hoses hissing. It was a little creepy.

What a messy day to do that work, I thought to myself. They say it is darkest just before the dawn; well, that darkness, along with the heavy rain, thunder, and lightning were threatening our peace.

She had put her headphones on, listening to something to calm herself. Just then, a large lightning strike and thunderclap hit not far away. The sudden flash lit up the front yard, and Makayla jumped up from the couch and stood straight at attention. She didn’t whimper or complain but focused all the more on the device in her hands. “Let’s get into the car,” I suggested. 

I opened the garage door, the sound of rain splattering everywhere. I started the engine and moved out. The pounding rain sent a rhythmic roar through the roof of my tin can Honda Civic, an echo chamber for the intense pelting rain.

Makayla was hunched over in the back seat, face buried and earphones tightly pressed to her ears. I turned on the radio, found the classical music station, and turned it up loud to try to drown out the pounding rain.

We didn’t speak, each listening to our selected music. The rain pounded on. Occasionally lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. Sweeping headlights from passing cars temporarily blinded me while I wrenched my neck, watching for the bus to round the corner towards us. We sat there much longer than usual.

God takes joy in recording our steps taken in faith

“The bus must be slower because of the weather,” I said. Just then, a huge bolt of lightning hit the telephone pole a few houses up the street. It was one of those pulsing jolts of brilliant light, and I could see the whole neighborhood in a split second. The flash and the boom arrived together, shaking the car and sending shivers down my spine.

“Wow!!! that was close!” I hesitated a moment, then said, “Don’t worry, we’re in a really safe place, our car is sitting on rubber tires.” No word from the back seat, just silence.

A minute or two later, the familiar blinking lights of the school bus rounded the curve and made its way to our stop.

“Here it comes, are you ready?” She gathered her bag and waited until the last possible moment, then the airbrakes of the bus signaled her rush out the door. 

“Have a good day!” I called. She didn’t answer. She was already into her day, rushing from one safe place to another, showing bravery that no one could see. But I knew.

I smiled and watched her board the bus, an unspoken witness to her step through the fear.

I know that the heavenly Father is witness to all the moments where faith over fear is on display, even the “forgettable” ones. He sees them all and records them in His book of remembrance.

I told her later how proud I was of her. She shrugged and gave me a half smile and pranced on her way.

I think the Father is going to shock us all with what He’ll read out of His book of remembrance. We know He won’t remember our sin, but He takes joy in recording our steps taken in faith. Whether it be a cup of cold water or raising the dead, it’s all the same when done for Him. Someday, some way, when we see Him face to face, there will be a moment when He introduces us to ourselves, showing us what He sees, and it will blow our minds.

What’s on display in you? What are you a witness to?