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.
