When a recent hot August afternoon turned to evening, claps of thunder accompanied by lightning bolts began shooting through the darkness. The rain fell on the dry earth, which needed more than the summer night offered. It was loud; lights flickered inside, and the wind roared down the chimney. And when the storm finally ended as abruptly as it began, I found myself smiling.
It’s fascinating how our minds work, isn’t it? A sudden clap of thunder can awaken a vivid memory from the depths of our past.
As a toddler, I stayed with my grandparents for at least two weeks every summer. One late afternoon, a violent thunderstorm rocked their Tennessee fieldstone home. My grandfather had gone into town, and my grandmother (whom I affectionately called Grandpa) and I were playing a board game in the living room.
Suddenly, she grabbed my arm. “Let’s get to the bedroom!” she yelled as she pulled me down the hallway.
“Why, Grandpa?” I calmly answered.
“We better get under the bed just in case something happens!” She replied quickly.
We shimmied under the bed, waiting for the stone house to fall on us, or maybe the old oak tree would come through the roof. “I sure hope this bed will hold up this house!” I sincerely prayed.
As young as I was, I was not as frightened as Grandpa. It wasn’t the tree limbs crashing to the ground, the booms of thunder, or the torrential rain that terrorized me, yet watching my hero experience panic completely alarmed me.
After the winds calmed and I quit sneezing from the dust under the bed, I asked as a tear fell down my cheek, “Grandpa, are you always afraid of thunderstorms?”
“Well, I reckon I am because they always seem to shake up my bones. My mama didn’t like ’em, so we climbed under beds all my life.” When Grandpa admitted her fear, she laughed a bit as she realized that she had inherited her anxiety and was unconsciously passing it on to me.
“Grandpa, I am not scared of thunder or that lightnin’, but those monsters I see terrify me to death! Ever since I watched Mummy’s Ghost on TV, I shake when I see bandages!”
We laughed at our crazy fears and how worry and fearfulness can attack at any age. At any time, it can rattle us and make us believe a bed is what will save us or that monsters hiding underneath them will end us.
We all carry a certain amount of trepidation with us each day. What demon will grab us? Is that tornado, car, or baseball going to careen off course and hit us? Yes, we practice defense hourly, as we probably should, but sometimes, our worries keep us under the bed.
We often fear trying something new and beneficial because we stress over the unknown. To obtain a promotion at work, do we succumb to the fear of rejection instead of asking? Are we too terrorized to reach for our dreams or fight for our rights?
During visits with Grandpa in the following years, I experienced many rainstorms in the Tennessee hills. I never saw her hide under the bed again. I witnessed her jump a few times, but she never hid from her fear again. She understood that what had frightened me the most was her fear.
Those monsters wrapped in bandages never did get me. Other seemingly normal humans put a few scars on me, but I never was afraid to meet people day after day, year after year. I just trusted my defenses and God to keep me heading upward, outward, and into the open field of life.
After the storm the other evening, I snuggled in bed and drifted asleep.
In my dreams, I was alone in an old house with a large front porch. The ground outside was bare, and the heat inside was unbearable. I laid a quilt on the dusty ground off the porch and watched the stars twinkle in the quiet night. Then, I turned to see Grandpa lying beside me. She reached over, touched my shoulder, and whispered, “The storm has left us cool, calm air.” This vision, I realized, was a symbol of the peace and comfort that can follow even the most terrifying storms, a reminder that love and faith can conquer fear.
It’s funny how a memory or a dream will remind us of those who taught us that our fears can be tamed enough to enjoy the beauty of life’s open fields of opportunity and each other.
“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise—in God I trust and am not afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?” — Psalms 56: 3-4
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Lynn Walker Gendusa is a Georgia author and columnist. Her latest book, “Southern Comfort: Stories of Family, Friendship, Fiery Trials, and Faith,” is available on Amazon. She can be reached at www.lynngendusa.com. For more of Lynn’s inspirational stories, click here.
