I saw the lightning first. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I told myself it was merely a reflection from one of the police cruisers going up and down our street.
It got hot today. The kind of heat that makes your knees sweat. The kind that (if you were a weird kid like me) makes you want to put on Rear Window, because at least you weren’t “that” hot. I get hot easily though, so take that with a margarita’s glass worth of salt.
A breath holding seemingly 10 minutes later I heart what I longed for. The clap of the thunder was the second sign that soon rain and it’s cool front are on the way. So, we sit in this hot studio apartment waiting for the rain. As I’m writing this, I see a few hesitant drops falling.
In my spiritual life, I’ve been waiting for the rain, but I never wanted to admit it. I’ve been stuck with thunder and lightning so long, I forgot that the rain it announces is for the good. It’s loud, it’s scary, it’s disorienting. The rain it will bring though, will be good, nourishing, and life-giving.
The rain is about to come for me, just like for Chicago. I’m going to be refreshed and I’m going to grow. I’m going to move past the booms and fear of weather past and get to the fat drops of healing, of refreshing, of grace.
Standing at the window of our apartment overlooking the courtyard, I can see the lightning, I can hear the rolls of thunder, I feel a glorious breeze, and I can smell rain. In this moment I’ve decided that the breeze is enough. It’s cooling our bodies down to get us to be able to sleep.
Wouldn’t you know it, the rain came. It is everything I hoped for and more. I am expectant for my rain.