God, I wonder at your creation sometimes. How you fill each
raindrop with a different destiny, commanding them where to fall and how to
purpose themselves. In hurricanes and light spring showers, dreary drizzle and
wailing winds that hurl them like stones from a slingshot.
Because outside right now it is cold and there is a canopy
of water falling from the sky and when you walk through it, it feels like there
could be no amount of layers on your body or coverings over your head to stop
you from feeling that chill in your bones.
Funny though, how one experience can be had in so many
different ways.
I think back to the way I felt those summer rainstorms, with
my arms outstretched and my face towards heaven- feeling every drop on my skin,
on my heart, as though I was being drenched in anointing oil. My spirit pressed
against my chest, and oh how I longed to hear your voice as tangible as I felt
the heaviness of wet clothes on my body.
But then I realize with power, that you speak through the
raindrops. They are your messengers, falling to the earth to bring the good
news that life will go on.
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