Yesterday I was standing in the kitchen talking to my boys when I looked out the back glass doors and noticed that there was a column of rain coming down right in the middle of my backyard, on a sunny afternoon. At first I thought it was a sprinkler from the neighbor's yard, but then I realized it was coming straight down and had an almost silvery dream-like quality to it. I asked one boy to go out back and see if I was right, and the other boy to run out front onto the driveway. Nothing. No rain falling on the east side of the house, just on the west side, under a single puffy light-gray ball of fluff.
I get rained on sometimes. It is the glowing here-let-me-help-you kind of rain that waters me and leaves me a little better. It is the kind of rain that quenches my thirst and reminds me that I need nourishing sometimes. It is liquid mercy.