Blessed Rain

It began for us during the evening on Saturday.  Rumbling in the west, the dark cloud moved toward us.  So many times it splits there at Caney and moves south and north around our hill.  But this was a strong willed storm. It moved steadily east, conquering the dry fields and hollows in its path.

And how welcome it was.  Parched.  We were so parched.  Dry as dry could be.  The creek had not had a drop of water in it for weeks.  Everyone else got a little sprinkle here and there.  But, here, high on the hill in Luna, Mother Nature failed to deliver.  So dry that the grass crackled and crunched beneath our feet.

All through the night the blessed rain fell.  Hard at times with echoes of thunder and streaks of lightning.  The wind blew.  I could hear it rattle the rain across the flue.  But it was a welcome sound.  And I could sleep with that lullaby whispering to me.  Rain, blessed rain.

Sunday morning.  More rain.  On our way to church we crossed the slab with water running under it.  A sight to behold.  Those rough rocks and gravel seemed to revel in the water washing over them. As we joined in morning prayer I said a silent thank you to God for the rain.  I know that sometimes it is an inconvenience.  And we know what too much rain can do.  But this was just right.

I marked 3 and 7/10ths in the gauge when it was all over.  Not as much as some, but enough to green the grass and fill the ponds and lead us into this new month on a positive note.

As the sun shone on the wet grass, I smiled and felt a lifting in my heart.  Even in the worst of times we can look for rain.  And even though we might have to wait for it, the blessed rain will come.