And I responded, "Me too. The rain does that for me."
It makes me slow down and rediscover the stillness that I often disturb by throwing too many pebbles into the well.
|Photo by Steve Corey|
After he said this, I remembered our recent days of rain and this thought arrived: A single raindrop has a three dimensional reflective property.
Millions of water droplets split the light into rainbows when colliding with golden rays of light.
Too much of anything becomes weary, and days of cloud cover can bring me down. But thinking of a single drop, reflecting everything around it, multiplied by a million, a rain shower suddenly becomes a complex spiritual mirror showing us the inner life that a day full of hot, bright sunlight might wash out.
Outside my bedroom window, the pattering of steady rainfall on the maple leaves is the sound of a creek tumbling over rocks. The sound washes away the worry and the mind chatter, bringing my dominating, language forming machine to rest.
Sitting at the open window, a freshness pervades my senses. The scent of moisture calls for deeper, slower breathing.
What can we see in a single drop of rain? Our world reduced to a tiny, reflected image: a swirling motion picture show.
Is this how God sees us? Through a veil of shimmering rainfall? Is this how we see Him?
My longing to return to that still, quiet place inside calls me to return to the woods, to the field, to the mountain and the river. To open the door and walk outside in the rain.