Our land is starved for rain. The grass is crisp. My tomato plants wilty. Allergies are going haywire as the everything turns to dust. Rain, I pray. Lord let it rain.
The wind howls furiously. I run outside to drag in trashcans and tuck away plant stands. My husband helps me remove a sun tarp which violently whips, thwacking the garage door. The cloud is right over our neighborhood. I fear it will withhold it's rain. Please, Lord.
"Let's pray and thank God for the rain," I hear my eight-year-old say.
But, I think to myself, it hasn't rained yet!
I correct my attitude. Thank Him anyway.
We huddle in the livingroom watching flashes of lightning strike across the sky. Thunder cracks and echos through our neighborhood. It sounds like a war zone outside.
I hear the clatter of the wind chimes. The kids snuggle close to us on the couch. My daughter is scared. She has all three of her favorite stuffed animals, plus her blanket, pulled close for comfort. We turn out the lights and I gather all the candles... just in case. I strike a match and set the flame to each wick. It's comforting.
My mind drifts as I observe the sky blink and shudder. When Jesus comes, what will it look like. Will the sky blink and shudder as it does now? Will it holler and shout out His glory as He rides in?
Rain pours, beating hard upon the windows and the roof. I awake in the morning to wet ground and light sprinkles. It is cool and refreshing outside- it hasn't been that way for months. The earth smells fresh and revived.
Thank you, Lord, I smile.
I see the parallels. I was dry, parched. I cried out, begged for nourishment, life, renewal. And down it poured. Thick and plentiful, soaking the ground just as the rain had my yard.
Ask, and ye shall receive.
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