Rain

There is something about rain that soothes the soul. I'm not sure why. Something about the sound of the crystal clear drops splattering on a sidewalk or running off the eaves of the house is just the most beautiful sound in the world. I never grow weary of it.

My grandmother used to tell me that it wouldn't rain in heaven and there would be no storms there. I'm sure for someone nervous about storms this was a comfort. But as a hurricane hardened child, I was very saddened by that news and when I prayed, I would often tell God that wherever he put me, I hoped there would be rain and thunder and lightening once in awhile. Streets of gold are all well and good but I suspect that gold won't be slippery enough to do a really good slide if it isn't wet. And the smell of grass is not nearly as sweet as it is after a summer rain. The air of a hot summer is only freshened by a quick thunderstorm that you can smell half an hour before it arrives.

For me, sitting in the dark watching heaven throw flaming arrows at the earth is the most exciting contest I can imagine.

It is one thing I miss most about my Southland. We have wonderful thunderstorms that charge the air with excitement and electricity. Just standing on the porch during a storm with the air sizzling from a lightening bolt and feeling the force of the thunder against your chest and the explosion in your ears gives you a physical impression of raw power that you can get nowhere else and survive. If you aren't cautious, you won't survive that either.

Tonight it is raining. For me, it is one of those nights when the sound of the rain brings a coolness to fevered thought, a freshening of the spirit, and a cleansing of the soul.

Turn your face up to the heavens and let the rain fall.