I awaken to rain coming down and go quickly to the window where it is raining in and I close it and I sigh that it has to be closed away. I love rain.

Within moments it pelts hard and I go to the big glass door and slide the blinds away and watch trees swaying and bending in crazy directions with startling swiftness, water blowing in sheets changing direction mid-air.

Another storm, but not like the last one, filled with fury.

My normal routine is interrupted as lightning streaks across the sky too close and cracks quickly and I unplug my computer to keep it extra safe from surges, gather up my book and green plaid blankie and pillow and curl up on the couch where I can hear the rain loud and feel the breeze blowing through.

I read about suds and sanctuary and slowing down and I lie there with book propped on empty tummy and muse at the picture of filling with thoughts that nourish far more than food ever could.

I absorb it all, three or four pages of wisdom so dense it makes me sleepy again. I lay the book on my tummy upside down like a little roof and close my eyes and pull green plaid softness under my chin and rest.

Storm calms but rain is still falling and I think how much I love the sound of the dripping, the soothing away of worry and anguish from a broken yesterday and the promise of a rain-washed today, another day the Lord has made.

An hour goes by and I rouse to the beeping of a message and would probably ignore it but then I think about how I don’t want to sleep away such beautiful hours filled with rain and wind and thunder. I toss aside green plaid and hear my pen fall through the couch cushions to the floor. Squeezing my hand into the gap, I wince a bit and grasp it barely and fish it back out.

I will need it for the underlining of this new day.

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