It's raining. It's actually raining. After a couple of hours of hearing thunder and not daring to hope, I now hear rain falling steadily on the roof over my office.
I think of my ferns and hurry to put them out on the walk where they can soak up as much as comes down.
I think of the piano piece I used to play in junior high called "It's Raining," and I sit at the piano and realize I can only remember the first few measures. But I don't care. It's raining.
I see our doggies hunkering down because of the thunder, keeping their ears down and eyes alert. I'm sorry for their anxiety, but it's okay. It's raining.
I know I won't need to get up and water plants tomorrow morning, and I'm thankful. It's raining.
I think of the weeks and weeks of dryness, the heat, the dust that has invaded our house (via the dogs from the backyard), and I feel relief for just this night. I know it won't last, but that's okay. For now, it's raining.
I think of God. I think of Paul writing "my God will supply all your needs in Christ Jesus." It's raining.
I think of my friend last year saying "God may not often show up early, but He's always there on time." It's raining.
I think of the hardest, darkest, driest times of my life when I wondered how much further I could go on with a dry heart and dust in the teeth of my soul. And I remember how, just when I knew I couldn't go on any further or I'd wither away, God showed up. In the body of a person, or in a song, or in a scripture, or in some other way that He used to resuscitate, refresh, renew me.
And, like a tree, I find my roots have grown, deepened, after those times. Reminds me of Gerard Manley Hopkins' words. Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain. Even deep roots would eventually fail to sustain us without His life-giving rain.
It's raining. It's raining.
Thanks be to God. It's raining.