So I survived my second Bastille Day in the heart of Paris. 2000 was pretty spectacular. We were seated in the front row, if there is such a thing: right up under the Eiffel Tower and just before the bridge over the Seine. We were sprinkled with the cinders of the artificial fire accompanied by a very powerful sound system that stretched the entire length of the Champs de Mars.

This year, 2003, we were again joined by the masses to view the light and smoke display. My perspective was a little different, though. I sat nearly at the end of the Champs, out of earshot of the powerful speakers and my view was blocked by that large pointy monument known as the Eiffel Tower. The show took on a new nuance as the Tower lights were exstinguished and the smoke and lights backlit the scene. They used similar plumes of sparkes as in 2000 and even the same twirly white ones that I had so admired. Our little clan was fortuante enough to take the 3rd to the last train home from the city, while our other half was separated and took the scenic route home..., at 8am. In some ways I'm jealous of the grassy sleep-over they had and the moonrise silhouetted Tower they witnessed.

I am reminded so easily how pitiful man is. Tonight, the 15th of July, God had another light show scheduled. The french are amazing architechs, and serious pyros when it comes to their independence day. But their show only reaches so far into the heavens and their fire leaves smoke, and their sound system sounds like the cheap paper speakers that get blown on the first trip out in comparison to the light show God put on tonight.

Tonight I witnessed, for free, from my own house, viewed from any window or perch with a view of the sky, the spectacular power of a living God. I started into the dishes and a few flashes of lightning lit up the clouding sky. The wind had picked up and the humidity and heat that still clings to the cobble and pavement collided with fantastic bass and frantic white light, fingering out across the sky- 20 times the size of anything we saw at the Tower. It started slow and began to gain momentum. I dropped the dishes and ran for the windows and threw them open to have a clearer view. The storm moved around the house so I went outside and joined 10 more worshipers of our amazing God and his fire show.

I can't help but wonder if one person in Chelles asked God for a sign, or if God was just putting on the show to put us Bastille celebraters in our place, or perhaps he was throwing a rave party for the angels. One can't say; but I know this- That a sky that is lit by fire that cannot be tracked, anticipated, or predicted; accompanied by bass and percussion like no other; and can be explained through scientific means, really is authored by something much much greater than any human ever has or will be. This is my God: awesome, powerful, renown, merciful, and patient.

We stayed out until the rain began to push us in, but I recovered a perch in my kitchen widows. I had a wide angle lens view of a diving lightning bolt that split at the tail and forked into the black sky. Over and over again, but never once the same. Clouds splintered one piercing beam making the lightning remind me of fishbones. Never in my life have I been so in awe of nature powered by my God.

I came to France with anticipation of seeing these lightning storms, but never have I seen one so powerful, expansive and magnificent as was tonight. I'll quote Roy on this one, "I wish my eyes had a record button."