Prayer and Rain

Hello everyone,

It's been raining a lot lately. I washed my car Saturday since our water restrictions have finally been repealed. Of course it rained Sunday afternoon, streaking the light green pollen (that I had overlooked) down the doors and windshield of my Rodeo. Monday it rained again, this time for better, sending the powdery stripes swirling onto the curb. Tuesday, the green stuff once again coated the Isuzu like a light covering of patina.

I promise I do more throughout the week than stare at my car.

When I was driving home from the library today, I was listening Ella Fizgerald (so fitting for rain, by the way), when I thought about how classy rain is. When it rains my thoughts sometimes tend to wonder sidewalks in Manhattan or maybe Chicago. The time is somewhere between 2:00 and 3:00AM, the rain whirling in the streetlamps, and one or two cafes still have on their blinking neons. A smooth strain of a saxophone rises from a deep corner of a room from a few floors up, slowly enveloping the airwaves like cigarette smoke. Rain makes me think of satin gowns and martinis and grand pianos and the Pink Panther.

There's something about rain that always puts me in the mood for prayer. Maybe it's the hypnotizing swish of windshield wipers, or the way small droplets form tiny rivers on window panes. I feel like I can get lost in the way rain falls limply to the ground from a massive gray swath of gas in the sky. Maybe the feeling that all of us are formed be something greater. Maybe it's the transiency of the droplet rivers which, with the swoop of a windshield blade, come crashing down to the pavement. I think this transiency makes me think of eternity. The prayer can come so naturally at these times, it's almost subliminal; just listening. It astounds me that our Creator can be so gentle, whispering melodies into our souls while breathing corrections into spirits. It amazes me that our Father chooses to give us this peace.

That's all for now,

McK