On Sunday morning, I sat relaxing in my reclining sofa waiting for Steve to get ready for church. I felt our dog Uno, rooting around under the sofa and called for him to "Knock it off!" He came running in from the kitchen wagging his little tail to see what the ruckus was all about. Well, I jumped out of that seat faster than a woman my age should be able to move. If Uno was in the kitchen, that meant only one thing. There was a mysterious, foreign and surely deadly creature disturbing my peaceful Sunday morning!
I cautiously peaked underneath the sofa and then behind it, wary that the beast could jump out at me from any direction. I found nothing but dust bunnies. I was sure I was either crazy or coming down with some strange tropical disease. As I walked down the hall to ask Steve to check my temperature, I was struck by a dizzy spell. Well, that just sealed my fate. I was going to die―not attacked by an exotic animal under my sofa, but by a slow painful, untreatable illness!
Suddenly, my phone began pinging incessantly. The message light blinked urgently as I unlocked the screen to find dozens of co-workers and friends sharing similar experiences. I wasn't dying after all. Last Sunday morning, I experienced my very first earthquake!
