Secret Place of Thunder

I hid in that secret place of thunder today. Dealing with swine flu while trying to battle an invasion of ants in my kitchen this week. This after having helped my daughter's family move. I had a bout of insomnia and was pretty well depleted when my cold turned into what must be swine flu. The column I wrote about swine flu was rejected by my editors for fear of offending pork producers, so in the middle of the haze of illness, dizziness, chills, I was trying to pound out an alternative column. Then, my son got sick. Not my robust son, but my thin-as-a-pencil-barely-consuming-enough-calories-to-stay-alive-as-it-is son. When I was at the lowest of the low, fearing for my son's life, calling in sick to work, wondering if I would ever breathe normally again, I receive a phone call. A call from a friend. Not a Facebook friend who knew I was sick and down, but a friend whose spiritual life I have seen blossom in the last few years, in desert places. At the end of our conversation, she asked if I'd like to pray. It was like water in the desert, with a little rolling thunder and promise of more water. Only God speaking to an attuned ear could have reached me in the hopelessness of that moment. But when He did, my soul healed, even though my body is still sick. More thunder!