When the sky speaks loudly, I listen softly.

 

There’s something about a thunderstorm that quiets the noise inside me.

Right now, as I sit in my chair by the window, the sky is putting on one of its most beautiful displays—thunder cracking through the clouds, lightning flashing across the sky like heaven’s handwriting, and distant rumbles rolling in behind it all. I’m in my element. This… this is my favorite kind of weather.

I love to sit by the window when it storms. I could sit here for hours just listening. The crackles, the loud booms, the deep rumbling that feels like it’s coming from inside the earth itself—it all speaks to something in me. It’s wild and powerful, yet somehow it brings me peace.

My mom tells me not to open the window because it lets in the hot air, and she’s right. But sometimes, I just want to hear the storm clearly. There’s something about hearing those deep rumbles that makes me feel close to something bigger than myself—like nature is reminding me that I’m not alone, and I never was.

Tonight, while I was listening to the storm, I had a thought:
Can you have lightning without thunder?
I remembered hearing about it on TV a long while ago—how people would see lightning in the distance but not hear any sound. It always seemed strange to me. But now I understand: thunder always comes with lightning. It’s the sound lightning makes when it superheats the air and causes it to expand so fast it creates a shockwave. That’s what thunder is. It’s lightning’s voice.

So when people say they saw lightning but didn’t hear the thunder, what they’re really experiencing is something called heat lightning. It’s not silent because the thunder doesn’t exist—it’s silent because the storm is too far away for the sound to reach us. That amazes me. Sometimes, even when we don’t hear it, thunder is still there. Just like God. Just like love.

There’s a kind of spiritual beauty in knowing that even if you can’t hear the thunder, the lightning still spoke. It reminds me that not all things loud are meant to be heard—and not all silences are empty.

Storms like this make me reflect on life, on how powerful and beautiful God’s creation is. The same sky that was clear just hours ago is now filled with light and sound and motion. And yet, through it all, I sit quietly, still seeing in the dark.

Even in the storm, I find peace.
Even in the thunder, I hear God.

“The voice of the Lord is upon the waters: the God of glory thundereth: the Lord is upon many waters.”
— Psalm 29:3 (KJV)

 

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