Pouring rain. It almost soaked my toast. Ate up and showered well. My face, my shoulders, my hips, my toes, all pink and scorched. I feel fresh.
I will need coffee, this morning. Coffee and worship music, and a walk in the rain, apparently. I need to leave for seminar in three minutes. There’s sure to be a line at Essentials for express coffee. I wouldn’t, but I will, because my eyes are heavy and I can’t imagine them staying open in my 19th Century Literature lecture right after class.
So hello, rain!
I love you. I love you and your rain and your sun and your world. I know that you are listening to me. I do not see you, nor have I heard you, but I cry out to you daily – I cannot again bring myself to rebel. You are too true. You are in Haiti, too. Thank you for bringing Kaleigh home safe from Haiti, but more importantly thank you for bringing her there. Thank you for the ways it will humble her, mold her, break her and rebuild her. Don’t stop, don’t relent! Don’t give up on me, either. I will choose to see this rain as a gift, today, and wake up! Wake up! Wake up! And use my mind, seek wisdom, and remember your justice. Don’t loosen your grasp on my heart, today.
In Jesus’ precious name alone, Amen.