Who Controls the Rain

The rain blows in the night, and I hear it splat against the bedroom window. There's evidence of its strength marked on the kitchen ceiling where water has blown into the chimney pipe and rolled down the rafters and left damp prints in the drywall. It will quit soon, but I don't know exactly when. I don't control the rain.

The water is building in the dip in the back yard to levels I've not seen before. It started out creeping closer to the house but now it appears to be picking up the pace. I wonder what kind of creatures are out there moving to new territory because of the quick and drastic change in their ecosystem. I wonder how far the water will flow before it begins receding, and I wonder who is drenched with sorrow because everything they own is now flooded, and I wonder when it will stop because I don't control the rain.

The traffic newsmakers are busy this weekend because the roads are slick with water and oil and visibiltiy is limited. Cars are smashing into cars and trucks are smashing into trucks and many of them are ramming into poles and running into ditches. The rain still falls, and I'm sure the State Troopers and traffic cops are weary,
but all of this will pass as rainy events do. I just don't know exactly when. I don't control the rain.

I watch the clouds roll and the water swirl and visualize the trees and grass and flowers pulling in the fresh moisture and sending prayers of thanks while loving every minute of it. I picture the clean, crisp, blue of sky after storm and the slant of fall light that falls on the lake with immense beauty, and I say thank you, God, for the rain. In your world, "all things work together for good for those who love God, according to His purpose." All means everything, even what appears to be a ceaseless, annoying rain.

Peace. Love, Linda