We had a relatively mild thunderstorm come through our area the other night.  I was sitting on my patio talking to a friend who had stopped to visit.  The storm and the situation reminded me of a particularly violent thunderstorm that I had experienced when I was just a young child.

I had a favorite stuffed bunny that I carried around with me every place I went.  It was a short-haired stuffed animal with a rubber face and you would have thought it was real, the way I carried it around.  I would even wrap it in a blanket like a live baby.

So, my brother and I are sitting in reclining lawn chairs on the big, screened-in front porch of my grandmother’s house, me holding my little bunny, wrapped tightly in a blanket. All of a sudden, there came a strike of lightning right across the road from the house and one very loud, booming crack of thunder.  It scared us so badly that we both jumped up, screamed and ran into the house. I, of course, dropped my little bunny and I remember I looked for that thing for at least two weeks and could not find it. I had given up hope and figured it was lost forever. Then, a couple of weeks later, as I was playing on the porch, I looked under the chair (for the umpteenth time) and there it was, where I had failed to see it before.  It was like a miracle to me and made me very happy indeed.