Tag Archives: rain

Day 22: The Sound of Rain (31 Days of Simple Truths)

Milada Vigerova/Unsplash

Milada Vigerova/Unsplash

They said on the news something about it being 30 days or so since we’ve had rain. The dry, cracked ground and the browning grass bear witness to this.

So when the clouds started rolling in last night, it was hard to do anything beside peer up at the sky, waiting for the first drop. All through the day and into the evening, we waited.

And then it came, pouring down in a gentle cascade.

I realize then how my soul also bears witness to the dryness, to the immense thirst. I realize because of the relief that floods through my core as I stand at the window, now spattered with drops.

Sometimes I am so thirsty. I am waiting for heaven to pour out so I can open wide and drink deep. I want to gulp in the substance that will sustain life in me. I am staring at the sky.

The sound of rain is the whisper of hope that, just as the rains come in season, so my heart will be flooded with what it needs, at exactly the right time.

Now, the rain falls. Now, my heart waits. And hopes.

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Filed under 31 Days of Simple Truths, Faith, Hope

The Rain

It’s raining.

There is nothing I love so much as the sound of falling rain.  A peace that can not be contained by the bounds of my understanding falls over my heart.

I believe You will come like the rain.

The heat is intense.  It’s August in Texas after all.  The plants get droopy.  The grass is tinged with brown. You run out to the car real quick and return drenched with sweat.  The weather forecast stretches before your eyes with all those three-digit numbers and if you get lucky enough to see two-digit numbers, a quick glance at the fine print where it says “Feels like . . .” chases away your momentary relief.  But then, all of a sudden, clouds gather and the sweet song begins.

I believe You will come like the rain.

The farmer carries his worried heart outside, casts a hopeful eye at the sky, winces in the glaring light of the cloudless blue.  The crops are dying.  The dry months have dragged on and on.  He knows in his bones, this year is going to be rough.  The harvest will not be enough.  They will pinch pennies and hope for next year.  Yet even in the frustration, the decades have taught him, and if not today, it could be tomorrow.  It may feel like it some times, but drought cannot last forever.  And then, one morning, clouds gather and the sweet song begins.

I believe You will come like the rain.

I toss and turn in my bed at night, 48 months and counting, stress and pressure the only constants.  I do what I have to do, and some days, it is more than I can bear.  I cast a hopeful glance at the sky, the ember of hope shrinking each time, and I am desperately trying to nurse this one last, flickering spark.  The phone does not ring.  The answer does not come.  If not today, perhaps tomorrow, but the confident voice wavers.  My gaze returns to the sky once more, but I shrug and look back at reality because all I see is a small cloud, the size of a man’s fist.  Though memory comes of another story, another time, another man who clung to the promise of such a cloud . . .

And I believe You will come like the rain.

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Filed under Faith, Miracles, Waiting