I followed the convoy home as I went to my dorm room thoroughly distracted from the events of spring break. The following day after class I went down to Hastings and purchased a CD from Pearl Jam that had alive on it. I went to the airport and had another flight to the cafe

Donna looked at me and made the comment, "Something shook you during spring break." I slid in the CD player communicating in no uncertain terms to alive and sung the final verse, "Is there something wrong she says. Of course there is I'm still alive he says. Do I deserve to be (the Les Paul shone in three notes that belonged) is that the question? And if so if so who answers who answers." Eddie Vedder's voice captured the intensity of the storm that was in my heart at the time. Donna asked for more. I told her what happened to the Fry crew. She looked at me point blank and stated, "You know from all the so-called rebels you and I are some of the few sain survivors and you know what has become of most of our classmates." We looked at each other having shared a volume we were both on the same problem. We were growing and learning while others were self-destructing. We were asking the same question, "Do I deserve to be?" I overheard the weather forecast and in a couple of nights a cold front was expected to move through the area. I had classes the following day and I drove to the dorm knowing I was not alone but still wondering about the survivor's guilt I had. I was confused and hurt. That class day rolled by in a hurry. I paid attention in class took notes that were never to be read and managed to hold a C-B average without exerting any academic effort. That afternoon I fished a Berkley power grub in the deep whole south of Travis Street on the north end of campus. After about an hour I walked back to the dorm packed up my stuff for another night of the cafe.

I drove again to the cafe knowing how well airplanes and thunderstorms mixed. The wind was strong and gusty from the south. A couple of customers gave us some work for early dinner. They then headed back south towards Leakey. Truckers were steering clear of 83 with the descending ridgeline and thunderstorms the winds could get interesting about ten north of Leakey less then a mile or so down the road.

It just Donna and I again. In the distance ever clearer were the rumblings of thunderheads. We could make them out as their contours and shapes were illumined from within as lightening flashed from deep within them. They were marching towards and my hair blew in the gusty wind as I rested against a post that held up the small porch, as I looked westward. A cold front acted like a huge blade within the atmosphere it hoisted up warm wet as it scraped the surface of the earth. The mountains of warm moist air became thundershowers they followed the cutting of the blade and when enough of the blade had passed over nothing but cool dry air remained.

The winds picked up to I reckon 30 knots the windsock was straight out and rock solid and then almost at the drop of dime the windsock turned. The thundershowers were getting ever closer. The front had just hit. The rain was about to start. The air was full of sound from the thunderclaps to the howling winds and micro-bursts adding more crosscurrents swirling in with the mass of cold air coming from the north. Super cooled air was dropping like rocks as it hit the top of the plateau it spilled out in all directions like water out of faucet hitting the steel of a sink bottom. I found myself singing a now familiar hymn "Majesty worship his majesty." A thunderstorm was bringing rain and I found myself in awe of this creation of my God. Any pilot who deserves the title is in awe of thundershowers. They can turn almost any airplane into flying scrap metal. They were to be avoided whenever and wherever possible. A fully developed cell could have many micro-bursts coming from it each one lethal. Rain was falling in thick sheets huge gallon sized drops were falling the sky and were being blown by the wind almost horizontally. I was a witness to awesome power and I was almost in the thick of it. I knew by the blood of Christ I could refer to the creator of the huge powerful event as daddy. I also realized that in comparison this thundershower was at best miniscule bit of his might. I did not deserve the title King's kid. By God's standards I should have been subject the wrath all the destructive might of this storm directed at me but, by the grace of God a mile or so away a rebirth took place therefore and Christ bore that wrath by his blood a rebirth took place. God acted and I reacted; I started singing: "Behold what manner of love the father has given unto us behold what manner of love the father has given unto us that we should be called the sons of God that we should be called the sons of God." The thunderstorm was tangible example of God's might and the fact by Christ's death and resurrection by that ever so sweet blood I could call God Daddy. This was the new covenant the one made at the last supper as the law passed away having been fulfilled to the jot and tittle. The gelling of the tangible storm and abstract but solid truth's God had only one result praise. There simply was no other option the truth was so mind blowing so glorious praise had to be rendered. My eyes were wet not with rain but tears of joy having just got a modicum of understanding of God's true nature and his true glory. The quiet time was unplanned by me but none the less it proved to be an awesome experience. Easter was just a few weeks away and my appreciation for the Universe changing events of Thursday night Friday and Sunday morning in Jerusalem grew tremendously.

A couple weeks meandered by and I was falling deeper and deeper in love again with the area. The lime in the water was sweet and I realized not only was I home but how awesome home was. The Melody Corner was like a music store in downtown New Braunfels I vaguely remembered in my childhood. Gibson's was terrific place to get fishing tackle. It had twice the stuff in half the space that Wal-Mart had. The prices were slightly higher but the service was so much better. I had even discovered Texas Rebel Radio KFAN, which had the sound track I had grown to love. That lazy backbeat of life in the Texas Hill Country I was picking up on and matching time with. Kim had grown busy but simple told me after Easter and I better have something good. I started remembering Speech and Debate Tournaments the worst streak in Texas speech and debate history began at Schreiner and it was by me. I decided to go for the laughs speech and debate tournaments always in their later phases were odd blends of utopia (not the town within fifty miles of the care) and rejected scenes from sitcoms since the humor took on an almost hallucinogenic feel.