Waking Up to Rain

 

A new day. Waking up to rain. Coffee brewing. Goodness is present. Thank you God.

I am sitting at my desk with a candle lit and a mug of coffee as I journal. The rain is coming down in thick sheets. It could not be a more pleasant atmosphere, unless it were chilly. It brings me so much contentment and joy to sit here with such an atmospheric mood. Water is falling from the sky, splashing on the roof, rolling off the leaves, cascading into puddles, flowing down the alley. If I could add a cosy sweater that would be icing on this delicious cake. But the temperature is in the low 70s, which does not warrant a thick sweater, though the a/c makes it a little bit chilly inside. 

Perhaps it is selfish of me to love such dreich (Scottish word for gloomy or rainy) weather so much, as most people are likely grumbling at the moment, but I do not regret my enjoyment of weather.

Very lately, I discovered the videos of St. Martin in the Fields, London, a church I have been to many times, perched there on the corner of Trafalgar Square. The Rev. Carter hosts some contemplative prayer walks around London, and they are wonderful as I get to see London and I join in the contemplative prayer practice. This one I watched yesterday took place in St. James' Park. In it, he admired the grey sky, pointing out how most people only remark on the beauty of a blue sky, but miss the grey clouds and their many layers and ability to play with light. I was thankful and smiled at his comments, for I find great beauty in the grey sky, and my journal entry yesterday actually expanded upon that!

The tree limbs reach out before me, catching the falling droplets on their multi-faceted clusters of green and limbs. Big leaves catch more water, but it rolls off quickly. The little leaves catch the sole droplet and it hangs there in mutual nourishment. Leaves bounce as heavier drops splash down, and rain falls to nourish the ground.

I could write about rain all day. There is a wonder and beauty in it - a gift of water falling from the sky. We do not pay for the rain. Weather is a free gift of nature, yet the city charges me to use my faucet. I notice the leaves do not have the summery, bright green shade of green, as the season of Autumn comes slowly, the growth of the tree will slow and move into a sort of hibernation.

The rain is slowing down now as I write. I am just one tiny person in this city sitting at the window admiring the rain on a Sunday morning. I watch rain as entertainment. I study the long, narrow leaves and watch the drips of rain. My eyes trail the branches as they curve and stretch up and outwards. And I write words to try to capture such moments, when words do not seem to suffice. We do not seem to have enough words in our language to describe a beauty of nature given by God in His creative imagination. But I shall try anyway, lest the words be insufficient.