When I was a little girl, someone (probably my dad) told me that if I would count the seconds between a strike of lightening and thunder clapping, the number of seconds I counted was equivalent to how many miles away the storm was from me. Last night around 2:30 a.m., I woke to lightening crashing right above me, or so it seemed, and almost instantly it was followed by the sound of booming thunder. This lasted for what seemed like eternity and I kept thinking that surely the storm would pass but as soon a bolt of lightening would stretch across the sky, the thunder would roll. Finally after a while, I was able to begin counting the seconds between the two. At first it was five, then seven, then thirteen. The storm was finally rolling on out. As I laid there in bed, I couldn’t help but think about how many times in my life I’ve been caught up in the middle of what seemed like a torrential downpour. There have been times when it felt like I was getting kicked while I was down, thunder on top of electrifying lightening. But as I counted the seconds and five turned to seven and then to thirteen and the storm had finally passed, I was reminded of all the times I’ve seen God’s hand at work in my own storms. While my aunt was sick with leukemia, she chose to “dance in the rain instead of waiting for the storm to pass.” Often times, there is so much to be learned in the midst of a storm. When we dig our heels into the ground, not being shaken by the winds around us, we realize our faith is being strengthened. Grace is being shown. Don’t fear the storm. Instead, fully rely on the One who created the wind and the rain, and you’ll begin to see that a lot of times, dancing in the rain is our best option.