Is it so strange that the
rain makes me smile? Steaming Irish tea gently cascades down my throat pouring
into what seems like my soul itself as it warms my relaxed body. As the rain
strikes out its lovely melody against my window, something brightens in my
soul. Through the glass and running droplets of water, the world fades into a
warped haze. Curled in a sweatshirt upon my bed, something stirs within me. A
realization of beauty. A gratitude to get to take part in this dance called
life. A comfort in knowing who I am and who my God is. Is this what it means to
be alive? An inanimate object cannot see beauty, cannot feel pain; it cannot
love and it cannot dream. It cannot taste of passion nor be stirred at the
depths of its being. It is not alive.
Yet living is not merely limited to adventure, though adventure is certainly a
part of it. Sometimes I find that the times I feel the most alive are those
when I am sitting still, breathing deeply and resting peacefully in my Father’s
arms. It’s in those moments when I tilt back my head, allow my eyes to close
and listen to the rain on my window, the voice of God speaking to my heart. Oh
the beauty, oh the peace. The world in its busy pursuits, its endless chatter
and its continual grating at my emotions drains me day after day. Yet its
moments of rest, of realization and of surrender such as this that I can rest
in the Presence of God and be renewed. The street is glossed with the sheen of
fresh rain as my soul glitters with the touch of my God. This is what it feels
like to truly live. Does it still seem strange to smile at the rain?
