Why I fear thunderstorms.

I don't know that I've ever told this story, in its entirety, to anyone. Most of you know the bits and pieces. Here is the story as a whole - -

Back when I was in maybe the 6th or 7th grade, there was a horrible storm outside. I kept watching my mother go to the backdoor and stare at the clouds. My dad was out of town on business. I could tell she was worried. (I come from a long line of worriers. Us worriers borrow things to worry about.) Anyhoo - - she looked at me and said, "You know, we'll probably have a tornado tonight."

WTH?????

Why tell me that? I'm sorry Mom. I know you read this. And we've talked about it before. I don't blame you. You were scared, too. But I would call that night the "birth of my fear."

No tornado. Just some wicked wind. I don't even remember if there was hail. I just went to that strange place in my mind and did everything I could to block it out.

Cut ahead to my twenties.

I was in town alone for Memorial Day weekend. I was enjoying my time off of work by doing one of my favorite things. I was floating on a raft in my apartment swimming pool - - trying to get a jump start on a tan. I was down in the deep end and there were families playing down in the shallow end. Many left. Rather suddenly. It never occurred to me to turn around and look at the sky. I didn't look at the radar back then. I don't even think I had internet at my apartment.

I turned around after it looked like it was pre-maturely getting dark. This was the beginning of my meltdown. The sky was black. Black. If you lived here and went through that storm, you know that I'm not exaggerating.

I quickly gathered my things and went inside. (Stupid second floor apartment.) I grabbed my pillow, a flashlight, the cordless phone and crawled into my hall closet. The city sirens started going off. I called my parents at my grandparents house. A lot. I talked to my grandmother each time. She was so calm and reassuring. The last time I called, I asked to talk to my Daddy. My Daddy. Because when we are scared, hurt or upset - - we say Daddy. I do. He dismissed my fear as the usual paranoia until I told him that several buildings had been destroyed. A tornado. I wasn't making this crap up. We had a freakin' tornado.

David and I were dating at the time. He was out of town, too.

I fell apart.

I only got minimal damage to my car that time. And no broken windows in my house. I determined that weekend that if I never saw rotation in the clouds again, it would be too soon.

Move ahead ten more years.

Shortly after David and I married (and a couple of months after I got the first brand new car I've ever had) - - I got caught out in a storm. It was hailing so hard that I couldn't see past the front of my hood. I was begging Jesus to get me home safely. I just knew that at any moment, the hail was going to break through my sunroof and windshield. I tried so hard to out run it. And I nearly did. I was about five blocks from home when it hit.

David was waiting in the garage with the door open for me. I sat there, engine running, doors locked and a death grip on the steering wheel. He was standing there, knocking on the door, trying to coax me out of the car.

It was horrible.

I went inside, let him console me and then sat on the couch and zoned out. When the hail busted through the skylight in our bathroom, I freaked out all over again. Golf ball sized hail. Inside my house. I called my Daddy. I think it hurt David's feelings. I was supposed to go to him for those things. I couldn't help it. I needed my Daddy.

So now - - when the radar looks like someone took a hacksaw to Barney - - you'll understand why I freak out.

I love rain. I love thunder and lightening.

I do NOT like the nasty stuff that usually accompanies it in this neck of the woods. And more often than not, we get the bad, too.

Luckily - - if you call it lucky - - I was diagnosed with IBS earlier this year. A treatment for it is a very small dose of anti-anxiety medication. I usually take it at bedtime. My GI doctor told me that I could take an extra one if I needed it for the storms. I haven't had but one extra one so far.

The thing is - - I know that it is beyond my control. Maybe that's why I fear it. I can't control it. I pray. And I pray a lot. And I know that I have friends that pray for me. Thank you, friends. You guys rock.

As Paul Harvey would say, "Now you know the *rest* of the story..."