It’s raining. After months of drought and weeks of 100 degree heat I’m sitting on my neighbor’s porch wrapped in a shawl and it’s raining. Cool, steady drops in a gentle, falling symphony. It’s as if I can feel the earth sigh through its scorched covering of grass and open its pores wide to receive.
The rain reminds me to be grateful. Water is a life-giving thing, but one we can’t control. It comes as a gift, God’s way of letting us continue to survive. He is good to us. After months of scorching heat comes rain for my thirsty heart. After a year of flooding and being overwhelmed with more than I can handle he gives reprieve and time to dry and find my feet steady beneath me once again. Everything in the season of his timing.
Always I am grateful for His goodness. So often now it pours out of me in tears while I wonder at the gift of being chosen and carried and taught and invited into knowing this God who loves me so inexplicably. And this morning this goodness and gratitude come in the form of rain.