I woke up to the sound of rain this morning. Before my alarm went off. And I'm pretty impressed because I was up a little too late last night watching a documentary on Walt Disney. Admittedly, I felt asleep on the couch for 15 minutes before I convinvced myself I really ought to go to bed.
Just before 6, I found myself stirring, and I couldn't make out what was happening right away. The sound of water hitting the roof. The sound didn't match the actuality of the downpour. I'm sitting backwards on my couch, recently joined by Magnolia, staring out the living room widow to the light across the street that's illuminating this healthy morning rain. Cora just came. My girls are looking all over, especially down at the street, trying to decide if it's flooding.
Being from Arizona, praying for rain may have been the most common communal prayer I heard. Any time it does rain, I can't help but think of all of those voices rising together, having faith that the needs of their lands and lives would be met by this one event that would cover their spot of earth. The prayer in my heart is one of gratitude, rather than desire, for the rain. It's meeting a need I didn't know would be so powerful this morning. A need to rise early and sit in stillness. Although the the stillness was brief before being joined by my little family, their excitement made up for it.
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