For 5 young boys, whose summertime outdoor world has been but a swirl of dust and dirt and dry-as-a-bone earth for the past 3 years, the rains that come every few days at our home-away-from-home, just 3 hours west, is glorious!!
I recognize, for some of you, the daily forecast, predicting rain every day, can be daunting and depressing. But, at least from the rain fruit and flourish emerge - green growth, clean air, earth refreshed. And, when the sun breaks out from behind the clouds, the world feels bright again, glistening with drops of goodness.
To contrast, the drought against the rain, it bears nothing but burden. It sucks the life out of everything and everyone in it's path, leaving behind trails of life-less dust. Dust on homes, dust on grass, dust on bicycles and baseball bats, dust on dreams, on plans to garden and hopes to make the flowers bloom.
At the beginning of summer, back at home, the early evening skies would build up big with clouds brimming with hope. We waited, every time, for just one...just one to burst open and offer us a little relief from the heat, but again and again, the storms followed a path away from our needs, leaving nothing but disappointment in its wake.
You can't explain how weary the dusty wind can make a soul until the soul finds rest somewhere new - somewhere where the earth tells a much different story.
And, all this rain, it's still fresh with excitement for the boys. Yesterday, George came running into the house - "It's raining!! Come out everybody, it's raining!!"
I sat in a seat of contentment on the porch with my camera, for the longest time, listening happily to all of the joy, snapping pics between splashes. I wish I could have sat there all day long!
Back and forth, up and down the street they skipped, water pooling in their hands, streaming down their cheeks, soaking through their clothes, washing the drought from their memory and mine.
I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.
I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.