This morning between 4:00 and 4:45 a.m., we survived a natural phenomenon that redefined the word "storm." I have never in my life seen the elements combine to make such a spectacle. There aren't words blustery and angry enough to describe what we watched through our bedroom windows. For forty five minutes, I alternated silent prayers, that our house would still be standing in the morning, and that my nostrils would unclog so I could breathe. The Lord answered the house prayer -- even our fence is still standing in perfect tact, which is more than can be said for most of our neighbors. And I answered the nostril prayer with two Sudafed, which, I know, pregnant women should probably not take. But you know, pregnant women also should not stay up for three consecutive nights in a row trying to breathe through an impasse of boogers. And I was tired of siphoning homemade saline solution through my passages with a bendable straw.
This morning (which was ironically sunny, clear, and glorious,) Henry and I took a walk through the neighborhood to survey the damage. We brought the camera.
Only damage on our property...
it fell from way up there.
Could have been worse...
or way worse.
Hard to believe such a pleasant day could follow such a sinister night.
While we were out walking we found a puff ball. Henry told me to "make it swish, mom." (What he meant to say was, make a wish, mom.)
We wished for no more mean storms. And that it's not too long before we get to go to Oregon again.