Rain

It's raining here in sunny San Diego. I love it. I don't necessarily like being cold and wet, but I love the sound of the rain, the way it clears the air. The scent of a storm coming and the way the air feels just before the rain comes.
It's amazing to watch the sky ripple and sway as the wind arranges the clouds to her liking. Deep purples, dark grays color across the horizon, I see the sheet of water coming in over the dark blue ocean. The water grows colder, darker and harder.
Waves crashing menacingly as they run from the coming onslaught. Trees shiver and quake in exciting anticipation of the renewal that comes with the rushing wind, roots lusting for the droplets of life. Sand and soil open their mouths to drink in the water, storing it deep in the bowels of the earth.
Some animals hide in their burrows, anxious for the storm to pass. Others revel in the downpour, absorbing life and dancing with the clouds.
As the torrent pours forth it's wrath, the earth welcomes and envelops it with open arms. Wind twists and turns through buildings, trees, and people. Rocks believe they stand firm and the innocent droplets steal tiny pieces of them, carrying their treasure to unknown locals.
One drop gathers it's strength in the dark gray cloud and plunges toward the earth with full intent. Does it carry life or death?
Were it to land among the leaves of an oak tree, slowly making it's way to the roots, it would bring life. Were it to add it's strength to the growing collection behind the weakening levy, it would bring death and destruction.
If this tiny drop were to strike it's force upon the mountainside, it would carry a slice of the mountain itself to far off places, down streams to riverbeds over waterfalls and rapids to the large delta where fresh and salt clash in torrents of brackish mist.
If that simple drop were to fall softly on my warm tongue, I would taste the joy of the rain, feel the love God has for me and know that I am alive.
I love the rain.