Thursday, October 22, 2009

Alone In A Storm

The wind blew and the sky darkened as I sat in the old wooden church. I didn't ask to take organ. I didn't even like the organ. Mom thought it would be good if I learned to play it after my seven years of piano. We didn't have an organ so I practiced at the church.

Dad dropped me off at the church promising to return in about thirty minutes. Just enough time for me to become a concert organist. The empty sanctuary darkened not long after I arrived. I played part of my music then decided that sitting in the church in the dark was not a good thing. I went back to the light bank only to discover that the power was off.

I grew up in that church. Played in the sandbox, sang "This Little Light Of Mine" and was baptized there. On Sunday's it was a warm, loving place with all of the people sitting in their same pews. However, with the lights out and the wind pounding against it, I trembled.

I looked outside. Dad was thirty minutes late. I had to go down to the basement. There were mice in the basement. I knew it; I'd seen them. Yet, I managed to creep down the stairs hanging on to the wall on my way to relief.

The church rattled even more. Once more I opened one of the big doors. I decided to stand outside for awhile since I was scared inside the church. The small billboard sign across the road flew off the posts and down the road. Go in the church with the ghosts or stand outside and be impaled by a erring limb? Back inside.

I was at the church about 90 minutes when Dad finally showed up. He tried to get to me, but trees were down across the roads he tried. With the wind still raging, limbs and leaves flying, we retraced his path.

I've had a few close brushes with mighty storms. I respect their power. My sisters always told me it was God bowling when the thunder roared.

I took this storm a sign that I was not supposed to be an organist.

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