My four-year-old and I sat out on the back porch last night in one of the hardest August gully-washers I've seen since moving to Texas.  This wasn't like a popcorn shower you'd experience in the Southeast, say in Montgomery, AL.  Instead of raining for a couple of minutes in a heavy downpour, well, it just kept coming  It rained for a good 30 minutes and HARD.

So Ashleigh and I sat on the back porch under cover–the wind was blowing from the South so we were on the North side of the house, and it was just coming down.  And then the lightning kicked in. 

She jumped at the first flash and instant crack and boom.  And then we both smiled and laughed.  Her next words:  "Daddy, God's taking pictures."  And so we made a game of it.  "When's he going to take another one?"  "There he goes!"  "More pictures God.  More pictures."  He did not disappoint.

In church on Sundays during communion, my oldest twin, Reagan, used to spy the reflections on the ceiling and proclaim, "Look at all the angels, Daddy!"  And if you looked up there, the refracted light sure enough looked(s) like the shape of angels dancing across the ceiling, which if you think about it, makes an awful lot of sense.

It's amazing what children can see and think of that we adults are too important to realize.  One of our boys was horrified of storms up until about a year ago.  With Ashleigh thinking lightning is God taking photographs of who he loves below, I don't see that problem coming about with her.  And so it goes, a memory that will be preserved in my memory until my final moments, and one now preserved forever on the Internet.  God really was taking pictures. 

Say cheese and smile next time. 




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