Here Comes the Rain

Playing in the orange grove at my aunt’s house is one of my favorite childhood memories! We would pick oranges, and eat them until our bellies hurt. Back then we didn’t care if the juice ran down our chins, our hands and even between our fingers; we had not a care in the world.

My cousins and I would stand in the middle of that orange grove and watch for the rain that would eventually come in the afternoon. Someone would yell “Here comes the rain” and we would take off running. We would always run ahead just a little, and then stop and watch the rain come closer. Then at the last minute right before it reached us, we would take off and run ahead again. We would barely make it to my aunt’s front porch before the down pour.

These days, Im not standing in my aunts orange grove, I’m standing smack dab in the middle of life. Where most days, no one is yelling “Here comes the rain”, and there seems to be no porch to take cover, and I find myself caught in the down pour.

It is in the downpour moments that I am learning to trust the rain, HIS rain to free me from all the messy things that I have allowed to cover me, and wash me clean. And on the days I see it coming, or I hear a voice saying “here comes the rain”, I run as fast I can to my father’s porch and allow him to cover me with HIS love. Because after all my life is HIS life and he’s not afraid of the rain!