Heaven's Bowling Alley

 I remember the nights when the sky would growl, and flashes of light would illuminate my bedroom walls. As a child, those summer thunderstorms filled me with a mix of awe and terror. The wind would howl, rain would pelt against my window, and I'd burrow deeper under my covers, trying to shut out the world.

On one particularly stormy night, I couldn't contain my fear any longer. With tears streaming down my face, I ran to my grandpa's room. He was always a source of comfort, with his gentle smile and eyes that crinkled at the corners when he laughed.

"What's the matter, little one?" he asked, scooping me up into his arms.

"The storm, Grandpa," I whimpered. "It's so loud and scary."

He carried me to the window, and we looked out at the turbulent sky together. A brilliant flash of lightning split the darkness, followed by a tremendous boom that seemed to shake the very foundations of our house.

I buried my face in his shoulder, but he just chuckled softly.

"You know," he said, his voice warm and soothing, "there's nothing to be afraid of. That sound isn't anything scary at all."

I peeked up at him, curious despite my fear. "It's not?"

He shook his head, a twinkle in his eye. "No, sweetheart. That sound you hear? That's just God bowling up in heaven."

I blinked, trying to process this new information. "Bowling?"

"That's right," he nodded sagely. "The thunder is the sound of the bowling ball rolling down the lane, and the big boom at the end? That's when He gets a strike and all the pins come crashing down."

As if on cue, another rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, but this time, instead of cowering, I listened intently.

"You see?" Grandpa said. "God must be having a pretty good game tonight."

I giggled, my fear forgotten as I imagined the scene he described. The idea of God in a cosmic bowling alley, perhaps wearing one of those funny bowling shirts, was both comforting and amusing.

From that night on, thunderstorms took on a whole new meaning for me. Instead of fear, they brought a sense of wonder and even excitement. Each boom of thunder had me imagining the celestial bowling game taking place above the clouds.

Years later, long after I'd learned the scientific explanation for thunder, I still couldn't help but smile during storms. The rational part of my mind understood about lightning and sound waves, but my heart? My heart still heard the echoes of God's bowling game.

Now, as an adult, when storm clouds gather and thunder rolls, I think of my grandpa. I remember his gentle explanation, his way of turning something frightening into something magical. And I realize that what he gave me that night was more than just a cute story to calm a scared child. He gave me a lesson in finding joy and wonder in the face of fear, in reframing the scary parts of life into something we can face with a smile.

So now, when I hear the rumble of thunder, I don't cower. Instead, I look up at the sky and whisper, "Nice strike, God." And somewhere, I like to think, my grandpa is smiling.