By Miriam Rees
Introduction
Some of my favorite childhood memories happened on our front porch during thunderstorms.
I grew up Amish out in the country, and life back then was quiet in a way that feels almost impossible now. We didn’t have television, radio, or the constant noise and distractions people live with today.
And somehow, even without weather apps or alerts, my parents always seemed to know when a storm was coming.
The sky would begin to darken, the wind would shift, and before long my mom would be standing at the stove popping homemade popcorn while we got ready to sit outside and watch the storm roll in.
Those moments are still some of the safest and most peaceful memories I carry.
Storms Felt Different Back Then
There was something almost comforting about storms when I was growing up.
The air felt heavier.
The thunder sounded deeper.
The rain seemed slower somehow.
I remember sitting on the porch listening to the distant rumble before the storm fully arrived while eating warm popcorn fresh from the stove.
No phones.
No scrolling.
No rushing.
Just family, quiet, and the sound of rain hitting the ground.
Looking back now, I realize those moments were about so much more than weather.
They were about slowing down.
Life Was Simpler
I think one reason those memories stay with me so deeply is because life itself felt slower back then.
People sat together more.
Conversations lasted longer.
Evenings felt quieter.
We noticed things.
The smell of rain.
The sound of crickets afterward.
The way lightning lit up the fields in the distance.
There was a kind of peace in those moments that feels rare now.
Storms Still Draw Me In
Even now, all these years later, I still love thunderstorms.
I love tropical storms.
I love hurricanes.
I love sitting quietly and listening to rain.
There’s something about storms that makes me pause emotionally.
Maybe it’s the power of them.
Maybe it’s the nostalgia.
Maybe it’s because storms force the world to slow down for a little while.
Whatever it is, they still pull me in the same way they did when I was a little girl sitting barefoot on that porch.
But Storms Don’t Feel the Same Anymore
As much as I still love storms, something about them feels different now.
Maybe it’s because life itself feels different.
Everything today feels louder, faster, and more distracted. Even during storms, people often stay focused on screens instead of sitting still long enough to experience them.
Sometimes I miss the simplicity of those old evenings more than I can explain.
I miss when storms brought people together instead of pushing everyone further into distraction.
Grief Changes Nostalgia Too
I think part of growing older is realizing that certain memories become sacred because you can never fully return to them.
You can revisit the porch.
You can hear thunder again.
You can make popcorn.
But the moment itself is gone.
The people change.
Life changes.
You change.
And sometimes that realization carries its own quiet kind of grief.
God Is Still Present in the Quiet
One thing I’ve learned over the years is that God often speaks in stillness more than noise.
Maybe that’s part of why those memories still feel so meaningful to me.
Back then, life naturally created space for quiet.
And in quiet places, you notice things differently.
You notice beauty.
You notice peace.
You notice God.
“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10
Stillness is becoming rare, but I think our souls still crave it deeply.
What I Miss Most
Honestly, I don’t think I only miss the storms.
I miss the feeling of them.
The slowing down.
The safety.
The togetherness.
The simplicity.
I miss the version of life where sitting on a porch during a thunderstorm felt like enough.
Devotional Thought
Maybe part of healing is learning how to slow down enough to notice life again.
To notice the rain.
The quiet moments.
The people around us.
Because sometimes the things that stay with us the longest are the ordinary moments we almost overlooked at the time.
Prayer
Lord,
Thank You for the memories that remind us of simpler and quieter times.
Help us slow down enough to notice the beauty You still place around us every day. Teach us to find peace in stillness and gratitude in the ordinary moments that often become the most meaningful memories later.
Amen.
