It Rained

getting rain in the desert is a big deal (well, at least for this desert newbie).

you go months and months without it and are spoiled by a somewhat predictable weather status:  warm and sunny or hot and sunny (okay, with a few days in the winter that can get cool).  so there's no need to check the weather app on my phone or sort through last year's winter clothes and see what fits.  and this is great.

except i love rain and cooler weather.  i love grey days.   i love grey, warmish, days that happen to have a bit of rain.

so this morning, even though we knew it was coming, i woke up to grey.  no sun peeping through the black out curtains in our room.  so it was easy to oversleep.  which we did.  and after the kids were in school, i took the time to tug and pry open the windows downstairs to let in the cool air.  well, first i walked out on the back porch to really observe the action of rain making things wet, and then proceeded to open windows.  and these windows probably haven't been open for six months.  there are some that didn't even budge, so i left them.  but for those that reluctantly gave in, dust sort of sprinkles onto the floor.  it's like, hey, i'm this dust that's settled here because these windows didn't move and so it was a safe place to rest.

but then i sat with my coffee and felt the breeze.  it felt so.  good.

there is sweetness and salt in it.  nourishment and healing to this farm-girl's soul.

and from the window, i looked and saw how the rain pricked the pool's surface a thousand times over and over.  this pool that, even in november, we sometimes find ourselves in.  the sound of rain hitting tarps and plastic chairs is quite soothing.

yet all of this isn't my point...

the rain in the desert is a dirty rain.  not the rain itself coming down.  but it's a rain that stirs up all of the dust and turns it to mud.  dust you didn't even know was on something outside becomes noticeable and yucky.  you can see this dust churned up as it rains, sending some cloud-like dirt fog up in the air.  it doesn't wash away the dust like you'd think it would (or should).  nope, it leaves the car dirtier then before.  it's not a cleansing rain.  the kind i loved to watch out our front windows in pittsburgh.  oh those rains would gush and run down the street to the bottom of the hill where we lived.  it'd bring everything from tree branches to deflated potato chip bags with it.  and after, there would be mud that had been through the wringer.  you could tell it had been woefully shaped by the attack of rain.  cars would shine a bit brighter after that kind of rain.

and this made me think about me.  and the rain in my spiritual life or just in my life in general.  those metaphorical rains that i've been through that perhaps were the type that did gush and cleanse and leave me a bit brighter and we'll say, holier.  oh but there have been many rains that brought up the dust.  and it would linker and become the dirt that stuck.  perhaps it was a season of my life that was difficult and i felt lost and cried out to God in the midst of the rain for healing and change, and the rain stopped.  but really, i didn't do much changing.  or, rather, i let the dirt stick again.  i liked it, was used to it.  let it rest in my joints and along the rim of my heart like those windows i pulled open today.

so, the cleansing rains are tough.  but maybe a bit prettier in the end.  but not matter what, the rain is needed.  it brings the dirt to the surface.  whether to endure the hard rains of deep change or to choose the lighter rains that jus don't bring redemption, is something i'm thinking about still.