cloudsThis morning the clouds are heavy, leaden, folded like a carelessly thrown linen tablecloth. The rain falls almost conversationally, as if pouring out a burst of words, pausing to listen, then pouring out another thought or two before pausing again. In the distance is the barely-audible rumbling of thunder, more felt than heard, as another storm approaches from the north.

Silver droplets hang from the tip of every leaf in the mesquite tree outside of my window, and a gold finch perches in the dampness to ruffle his feathers.

In the desert, in this place that is so often parched and dust-blown, these rains always seem like a miracle. They literally restore a dying land to life again. Dry river beds flow muddy brown. Cacti swell. Flowers bloom. For a short time the animals are unhurried in their search for food — desperation has been lifted and replaced by hope.

These life-giving rains are God’s grace on a land that is still precious to him. And as I stand out in the downpour and turn my face upwards and let the cool water wash me clean, I feel his presence. I feel his love.

Hear, O earth, the words that I say! My teaching will fall on you like rain; my speech will settle like dew. My words will fall like rain on tender grass, like gentle showers on young plants. I will proclaim the name of the Lord; how glorious is our God! — Deuteronomy 32:1-3, the song of Moses (NLT)

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  1. Madonna would say “Rain, wash away my sorrow, take away my pain. Your love’s coming down like rain”…

  2. Desert terrain and weather are so much a part of Tony Hillerman’s mysteries.

  3. Beautiful, poetic post!

  4. while you’re still reflecting on weather, maybe point your browser at http://climatecrisis.org/