You just don't know.

My wife called me last night from Robertson County, TX.  It's one of those big counties that are flat.  The OSR runs through it, and in it's Central Texas way, it's beautiful.  Grasslands, those copses of the gnarled trees (what kind of tree they are escapes me at this moment).  She called to tell me that deep on the horizon a storm is rolling in.  I love storms.  Tornados?  No.  Hurricanes?  No.  Big, old-fashioned thunderstorm with rain, lightning, thunder, and not too much wind?  Yes.  The sun was setting in a pink sky, and on the horizon was the deep black clouds dancing with the lightning.  She dedicated it to me.  I wished I could have seen it.  This morning, she posted a picture of the sunrise.  Beautful, tranquil, exact opposite of the violent thunderstorm.

I'm not attracted to violence, but the majesty of the storm.  The majesty of the quiet dawn the next morning.  I'm attracted to the vastness of the ocean too.  I'm a spiritual person, but haven't cultivated it well lately, but I feel closer to the divine with weather and nature.  Man, as far as I'm concerned, will never tame the thunderstorm, nor control the sea.  That alone is for the holy; and for us to wonder. 

I'm a bit reflective this week.  The day before we closed on our house, which is was a surreal process in itself, we found out that my wife's Nana died in her sleep.  Her passing is why my wife is in Texas this week.  I'm single parenting it this week, which is more difficult than I imagined; and that's coming from a three year stay at home dad.  Hats off to the single parents who may stumble upon this blog.  I haven't handled my stress too well this week as a result of all the ups and downs, but I keep hearing the old African-American Spiritual:

Wade in the water....
wade in the water children....
wade in the water....
God's a-gonna trouble the water.

My waters are troubled.