And then there's thunder

You're often stronger than many things in life that seem powerful and threatening.

Like thunder.

The rain has been coming in abundance lately, and I know I'm not the only one who is pretty much completely over it. Done. Give me sunshine. Now.

Whenever it's raining—especially storming heavily—I prefer to be curled up on my sofa in comfy clothes and clutching Tie (my stuffed koala who has been in my life since forever ago). I don't like driving in rain, because apparently no one in Texas knows how to operate vehicles in any form of adversity, so the number of wrecks go way up. Plus, it's just annoying. I don't really like having to do anything in the rain, especially if it involves risking getting wet. (And, let's be honest, I really don't want to get my hair wet.)

But, unfortunately, I can't always hide on my sofa when the storms just won't stop.

On Saturday night, I was left with the task of staying with my parents' dog at their house. They treat Audrey like she's the fourth child of the family. My sister had plans on Saturday night, and it wouldn't even make sense to ask my brother to stay with her. Knowing I would be completely free, my parents asked me to take the overnight shift while they were at a wedding that night and staying at a hotel in another city.

Later in the night on Saturday, the rains started coming again. I needed to take Audrey out for a short walk one last time before I went to bed so that she could do her business, and it was obvious neither of us wanted to get wet. I grabbed a large umbrella my dad had told me about and covered us both as we walked halfway to the end of the street and back. When we got back inside the house, just as I was closing the door, a blinding flash of lightning lit up the front porch, and one of the largest crashes of thunder I've ever heard dominated the sound waves. Audrey was so scared that she ran and hid behind the couch, and it took me a few minutes to convince her that it was safe to come out.

We bonded during the storm

It made me start to think about what thunder is: a noise. Lightning can be harmful, but thunder doesn't actually hurt you. It scares many people—and dogs, apparently—but doesn't do much more than that. Thunder can warn you about storms in the area (though you probably are already aware of them), and there's that whole calculation of the time between thunder and lightning that tells you the distance of a storm (Does anyone actually think about that?). But, I'm still choosing to classify thunder as one thing: a noise.

We all face storms in life that we can't control, and many of these rough periods will be magnified with thunder that scares us more than it should. I know there will be times my shoes get wet in puddles; I know my hair will get frizzy or become a plastered mess in the rain; I know that I will fail with my umbrella when getting into my car, and my entire left side will become soaked; I know that it will take me longer to get places because of traffic and excess water on the roads; I know that I might have to jump on a treadmill when it's lightning out; and I know that I will miss my sofa in every single one of these scenarios.

But I also know that water eventually dries, and I don't have to hide behind furniture when the thunder rolls.

Audrey slept right next to me that night, and she wasn't afraid anymore. She knows something a lot of people forget: it's a lot easier to get through storms when you're not alone.

You know one thing that is so great about storms? The hope that there will be sunny days ahead. Soon you'll be out of the storm, take a warm shower, put on dry clothes and get to spend that time on your sofa. And you might even see a rainbow. But definitely don't worry about the thunder—it only lasts a second or so, anyway.

And, like so many other things we tend to magnify too greatly in life, it's only a noise.