Rain, glorious rain

Storms never last

The rumbling sound of distant thunder heralded the impending arrival of the storm.  The skies took on a darkened broodiness and the birds fluttered from tree to tree seeking shelter.  Their frantic bird song sounded as if they were warning each other or calling their children home.

The fragrance and heaviness of rain clung to the air in droplets invisible. The coming storm was inevitable.

Soon the sound of raindrops could be heard as well as felt.  They fell lightly at first like a sweet baby’s kiss, then heavier they fell, larger in number and pelting my exposed skin, driving me to shelter.

The thunder was closer and a crack of lightening split the sky.  All the birds were now silent in their places of refuge.  The trees and shrubs were bending and swaying with the wind, the tender flowers taking a beating.

The sound of rain was all around, pelting the windows, falling on the rooftops, splashing into puddles, rushing down the gutters and spilling to the ground, a melodious symphony.

Rain, glorious rain, falling, falling down, refreshing the earth.

Storms never last

Storms never last

I sit inside in my favorite chair wrapped in a cozy blanket.  Its day three of nursing something yet undiagnosed, but I can tell you I haven’t the energy to do much more than sit.  I am looking out the window to my left, watching the rain fall down vertically at an angle.  I notice this and assume it to be an effect of the wind.  I can still hear the birds chirping, which sounds eerie based on the appearance of things out there.  I wonder if they are attempting to guide others home or if a mama bird has lost a child.  If God’s eye is on the sparrow, I am quite certain they know what to do and where to go in a storm.

Just as God guides His creatures, He will guide us through the storms of life, if we will but let Him.  Our problem is that we want to do it our way without help from anyone.  Yes, we much prefer to captain our own vessels through the waves and the rocks, the tropical force winds and pelting rain and hail.  In the midst of a great storm, direction can become meaningless and we can find ourselves at the mercy of the wind, blowing us where it will.   Often, it’s only after we are bruised and battered that we will begin to call upon the Great Rescuer.

So, as I watch the rain drizzle down the windowpanes and I reflect on the many storms of life that His love has carried me through, I cannot help but express my gratitude in praise to Him.


For You have been a defense for the helpless, A defense for the needy in his distress, A refuge from the storm, a shade from the heat  Isaiah 25:4

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