Set me a seal upon your heart,
As a ring upon your arm;
For love is as strong as death...
Its flashes are flashes of fire,
A flame of the Eternal.

Song of Songs viii 6-7

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Wednesday, January 12, 2011


Author’s note: As we begin a New Year, I’m posting a journal entry that falls near the beginning of my book. In fact, this story is the 2nd journal entry of The Hope and the Knowing.

I hope you don’t mind, I decided to save a few of the eeriest, most mind-boggling entries for the time of publication ;) ;)…. Nevertheless, the following thunderstorm was a fearsome one, hitting our town on Christmas Eve just hours after Max left our world… so they say.

Hoping you enjoy this story and the other true stories posted to my blog.

With warm regards,

Journal Entry
Wednesday 12/24/2003
Christmas Eve
Chandler, Arizona

At around two o’clock in the morning, I awoke to a deafening boom as torrents of rain whacked the windows, not unlike the bombing of London. Lightning bolts lit up our living room like Grandma’s colossal Christmas tree – all happening in Arizona, in the heat of the night, in the dead of winter – a mere five hours after Max left our world.

Too fearful to make a run for the bedroom without him, I rolled myself into our pathetic old afghan, my makeshift security blanket. Thunder bellowed like Thor himself as another bolt blew... and another… and yeow, a shocking third! Cowering in a corner of the living room, I screamed like a banshee. Maybe I’m leaving my body… no… more like my mind. Then, without warning, a blast hit our roof, or so it seemed.

Thankfully, the house hasn’t toppled… yet, I thought. It’s just those daylight detonations besieging an overwrought mind. Reaching this cosmic conclusion, I surfaced like a cave dweller ready to view the world. “What a strange phenomenon,” I said aloud, as if this meager stab at a scientific approach might bring me some relief. It didn’t. For another bolt blew and all I could do was cringe and crawl back to my corner. Fingers trembling, I managed to reclaim my ragged afghan.

Glancing up at the ceiling, I cried in silence, Oh, how I miss my Max, a man I never thought I had taken for granted.

But somehow, I did.

I must have.

Yet, no matter my sorry words, the storm showed no mercy as bongo sticks pelted the patio table. Perhaps in an act of defiance, I finally got up enough pluck to fling open the living room blinds and confront my tempest. Staring out into the mist and an all but visible backyard, at last, my sentiments softened as I remembered how much Max loved the rain. Whenever storm clouds threatened, he’d lift the garage door and call me out to catch the sights. Together, in our little haven, we’d watch nature fling its fearsome fireworks. And smell the sodden earth and the sweet, wet grass. There I felt happy, at ease in Max’s company, protected in his arms. Sometimes it seemed he called me out to see the storms just so we could connect, share those beautiful moments of closeness and camaraderie. Yet, even as he and I both became a part of my cherished past – a past so new and troubling in its very finality – the thought of our thunderstorm moments somehow had the effect of allaying all my fears.

Soon the winds blew the clouds high as if heading out to chase some distant folly. At long last, I managed to amble my way back to bed… er the sofa. Punch-drunk, I nearly sat on my tabby cat. “Oops, Tiggi, digging at that old afghan! Here, come sit next to me,” I said, pushing on a pillow, soon to become her paw partner. Rolling and tumbling around a bit more, we finally found our comfy spots and settled in for the night.

I don’t recall waking up again… till dawn.


  1. Checked out your storm story...what original writing! Your verbs were great...felt like I had been there with you. JUDE-ART

  2. Hey Jude ~ how's it going?!

    Thanks for your awesome comment. Most of all, I appreciate that you're reading my stories.

    Hope your weather's warming up over there, or will be soon!

    Your bud,