We just got the most exciting thirty seconds of hail I've ever experienced. A few taps and then some solid clunks and then we had to shout as loud as we could to hear one another. Balls of ice ricocheted off our driveway several feet back into the air until we couldn't tell if the ice was shooting up from the ground or falling from the sky.
The girls panicked and covered their ears and screamed and ran pell mell up and down the stairs trying to decide which level felt safer.
I think they thought I was panicking, too, because I ran. There were five windows to close and even though I screamed, "I'm just closing windows!" they thought I was running for my life and leaving them behind. Trauma at Tapper's house.
But in less than a minute the skies grew quiet. The wind stopped lashing. The windows were closed. The children stopped crying.
And I felt it.
That feeling I get when I look at my life and know that I am blessed.
Blessed with safety. Blessed with screaming girls. Blessed with a good husband and a strong home to keep us safe.
And my heart swelled with gratitude. Gratitude that we are protected physically. And gratitude for the knowledge that when we are not protected physically - when the storm does blow away our house or our bodies lose their health or we are touched by the hand of death, we are still protected. We are children of God. We can listen the voice of prophets and apostles who live today and bear our trials courageously.
We can choose to believe.
We can choose to hope.
We can choose to serve
Now all is quiet but the purr of thunder in the distance, the echo of truth in my mind from the last two days of General Conference and the strumming in my heart saying, "All is well. All is well."