Light Show

For two hours last night I witnessed a fabulous light show, the likes of which I have only seen here in Michigan. A thunderstorm with lightening every 20-30 seconds revealed the silhouettes of the trees across the lake. The occasional wall-rattling thunderclap emerged from the constant low rumble.

It reminded me of such a storm many years ago when my little family of four was camping under the 100 ft. evergreens on the shore of Lake Michigan. We awoke and found ourselves sloshing as if on a waterbed in our tent, for the two inches of rain had filled in the soft pine-needle bed beneath us. I realized that those tall trees had become lightening rods connecting us in our waterbed to the electric bolts.

We scrambled our two soggy pajama-clad children into a tiny sportscar and drove the 70 miles to Grand Rapids at 3 a.m. along a flooded interstate lit by the lightening strobe. We were too young to even think of this as stress. We returned to the campsite the next day and resumed the weekend. Wet tent, puddled picnic table, but the bacon and eggs still tasted great.