On Rain and Conversations with God

I woke this morning to the sound of a symphony of weather. A collection of dreams. They were gathered together in the office of heaven. Surrounded by Glory and every good thing. And in a moment, surfacing to the atmosphere. falling at the rate of perfection. And mastery no man has understood. No woman has known. And blown with the breathe that sends the wind. and lowers the skies. and sends the atmosphere from a passive blue to a fierce orange.

It comes softly through to me in a dream and then louder as I wake. The full glory of rain drops pelting heavily against my roof. The wind slamming against the windows. And the sun fighting to burn through all that is gray. All that is wet.

And for a moment, I swear to you, as I began climbing into the sweet day, I could hear the presence of God, shifting, moving, with power beyond belief. Moving into me. Calmly nursing me awake. And speaking life into something that hangs deep in the recesses of my heart. To a place only he knows. And holds secretly about me.

He knows when I sit. And when I rise. And I am His child.

If I chose to believe that, right here and now, in this moment, I am changed. There is no other question to ask. There is no greater cause. No point to make. No one to save. Not tonight. Not now. That is the only thing that matters.

And in that moment, I shall truly believe. Praise God.