It is raining today.
Our boys are playing a board game instead of building forts for their chickens outside. The light has dimmed as a bank of soft, gray clouds hover above. Drops slide down the metal roof, pinging on the swamp cooler in our living room window. The dirt trails that crisscross the camp are mushy and slick. The foliage is heavy with moisture, drooping under the weight and boasting a rich, verdant brilliance that only comes with weeping skies.
This constant drizzle is exactly what we needed.
The wildflowers bloomed early again this year, responding to the heat and clear blue days. I saw a tiger lily yesterday, a flower usually found in July. The low meadow grasses are starting to crunch under my feet. Dust rises in a gritty cloud whenever a car approaches the camp.
I love the rain, not only because of its power upon the land and quiet beauty, but also because it reminds me to trust God.
My sons would rather play outside with sunshine warming their faces and a busy building project to fill the day. I was less than pleased as I loaded every single stuffed animal we own into the back of our car to bring them home after the big sleep over last night, with the cousins, outside, in the rain. The sleeping bags and blankets and stuffed toys and books were something less than dry and a few of them came back soaked. This is not the best weather for hiking or swimming or volley ball. It is not the ideal day to harvest hay, ride over Blewett Pass on a bicycle, or break a pole vaulting record. But the rain is good and valuable and vital all the same. It is a blessing from God and it reminds me of His love.
Rain is not always what we would choose. But anyone who has ever nudged the fading leaves of a wildflower or watched a flitting bird search the bushes for rose hips knows its incredible value. My grandmother tells the story of a child she met during the depression, a child who had never seen it rain and looked to the skies with such a longing that it made her want to weep.
When I watch the rain I remember that I don’t have to catch the entirety of the universe in my palm to dissect and completely understand. When I see the rain I remember that God loves me and that He watches and cares for all of His creation, even when we fail, even when we scheme and plan and forget. He is there, giving grace to all that is His. I see that God cares deeply, beyond our wishes of the moment and our childish tantrums. God looks beyond the thin crust we build about ourselves and into our inner self. He weighs and considers so much more than what is happening today or tomorrow or next year. When I watch the rain dripping steady and soaking deep into the earth I remember that my plan is not always best. I see the power of something quiet and gentle and soft. I see life renewed and second chances. I see His love.
Matthew 5:44-45–“But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.”
Boo Boo
