Rain

I love rain.

I love the shushing noise it makes when it ruffles spring’s soft iris petals.

I love the cooling calm it sprinkles generously across a steamy summer afternoon.

I love the dank, musty smell of soppy leaves after a chilly autumn downpour.

And I even love the cold, dusky aloneness of a long winter’s drench.

I need rain.

To quiet my heart.

To refresh my soul.

To remind me that every season of my life must have life-giving showers to soften the parched, dry places. So that things can be planted. And watered. And grow.

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts,
Nor are your ways My ways," declares the Lord.
“For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
So are My ways higher than your ways
And My thoughts than your thoughts.
For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
And do not return there without watering the earth
And making it bear and sprout,
And furnishing seed to the sower and bread to the eater;
So will My Word be which goes forth from My mouth;
It will not return to Me empty,
Without accomplishing what I desire,
And without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it.”
Isaiah 55:8-11 (NASB)

God’s precious Word is my rain. Sometimes flooding. Sometimes gently showering. Always bringing Truth when It comes. And always leaving behind a renewed sense that it isn’t my understanding of His Ways that really matters.

I don’t need to understand at all.

I simply need to know.

Him.

I’ve been keeping a photo journal of the rain at Kirkhaven. Here’s a picture of my wet “walking boots” after I have traipsed through the soggy Kirkhaven meadow snapping pictures of rain-glazed grass.

I wanted to share some of my rain photos with you. I send them out into the blogosphere with a simple, heart-felt prayer. For those who are thirsty. For those who are dry. For those who know. And for those who think they can’t:

Father, send the rain.

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid