Rain is falling, a taste of life on parched ground.
I have always loved the sound of rain, be it soft and soaking, or crashing and splattering loud against everything it hits. This is a crashing and splattering sort now, but it began as the other…a patient rain, penetrating deep.
The crashing loud gets my attention…but most of it runs off, the ground here too hard and dry to be able to make much use of it, to be able to make the use of it that it so desperately needs.
Quiet, patient, pattering and soaking rain…that penetrates. That gets in deep, down deep in the soil where it makes a difference. It does so gently, persistently, with each drop gaining ground, nourishing, bringing more life.
I can rest with this sort of rain. Sleep comes easy, also refreshing and bringing life in it’s own way.
All rains are good, esp here in TX…but some rains are better than others. I think there are parallels here with other aspects of life. I’m tired tonight, and though my soul wants to muse on this, I think I’m just going to rest and listen to the rain. I don’t hear it near enough, here. That probably applies to multiple levels, also…