Faith, Family and Friends

It's raining outside again. I can hear it as it hits the asphalt. John is snoring quietly, thank you God for small favors, and the pre-lit tree we have on the counter behind me has a small hum to it. Someone just got out of their car and the horn honked as they clicked on the key after closing the door. Night sounds.

The rain is picking up and it sounds like a helicopter over the interstate, which is a couple of miles east of us. Where we are situated rests between two large hills, so being as protected as we are from high winds and noises, night sounds are normally those you can identify. That's a comforting thought and realization.

I can remember being in a downtown hotel in a large city and while in Baptist South, night sounds carried pain, anger, hurt, and fear. Sirens and wails were common.

When we lived on the dirt road, night sounds were those I grew up with during my high school years. Crickets, owls, coyotes, tree frogs. Nice, but I don't miss them.

No, I much prefer what I'm hearing right now. I feel safe, comforted, and home. Night sounds. Nice sounds.