I must be crazy. It’s 48 degrees outside and 100 per cent humidity. But it’s raining. After three months with nothing, it’s finally raining. So I had to come out here and smell it and listen to it and watch it. At least until I’m cold.
Was that my breath I saw? Okay. I’m cold. Going in now.
It’s quiet. I’m the only one up except for our dog, the super sleuth. And she’s sulking in the corner because her bathroom ceiling is currently leaking big time—if you know what I mean—forcing her to air dry. Well, I’d be sulking, too. I hate it when my hairdo gets wet.
What is it about rain that’s so comforting to me? Some people detest it. They love getting the drought-ending moisture, but they hate the gray skies and being on house arrest.
But the light still comes through the clouds. It’s just not a blue sky. And nobody should be looking straight at the sun anyway. It seems to me that rainy days are safer than dry ones. They’re just . . . wetter.
Rain cools things off. We’ve been flirting with summer this spring like a teenage boy on a college campus—we’re not ready for that much heat yet. Slow down the Scoville train. It’s gonna be one hot tamale around here soon enough.
Rain is peaceful. At least, this kind of rain is. Slow, lethargic, playfully releasing raindrops onto puddles just to see what new patterns it can create. It reminds me of a picture taken of my daughter when she was sixteen, sitting on a rock next to cascading water, laughing as she dipped her toes in and out of the wet stream, watching the current flow around her feet and gently tickle them.
Maybe it’s just that I’m attracted to water. Which doesn’t seem to make sense. I mean, after all, I chose to live in the desert. But one of my favorite things to do when we travel is to stand on a beach—once the sun leaves to go bother somebody else—and watch the waves while a cool wind styles my hair. A couple of weeks ago we did that after sunset when all we could see of the water were the white outlines of the incoming tide. We stood in the sand, facing into the wind of an approaching cold front and looked at the stars. You should have seen the hairdo nature gave me after an hour of that.
I may never get to the bottom of my obsession with rain. It just makes me take a deep breath and let go. God is here. He brings rain to the desert and comfort to my heart. I can count on it as much as the rainbow that always follows a storm. He never made a promise He didn’t keep, and every time it rains, He puts his signature on the blue sky to remind me of that.
I spell relief, “R-A-I-N”. Cool, cleansing rain always comes. I just have to wait for it.