When the Rains Come

Light is always contrasted against the darkness of storms the Great White Oak has stood firm in the midst of for years. Light is always contrasted against the darkness of storms the Great White Oak has stood firm in the midst of for years.

 

Too little, too much, just enough

When the rains come, we judge its presence

We pray for relief, we thank God for provision.

When the rains come, does our concept of God change?

 

To the farmer whose crops depend on its timely fall and evaporation

It is the life of a seed that will sustain a herd or a family.

To the urban dweller it is a cleansing wash

that carries away the filth of living in close quarters

Or

The Deluge that rises to overcrowd gutters and drains and spoil the holdings

Of comfort-seekers, who once thought they would be safe from its pact with wind.

 

In the eyes of a child, the blessing and curse of rain is understood

The moment the heaviness of air

 releases its tight hold on particles too close to abide without falling

And relief from oppression un-restricts breathing;

Rain is known by its cloak of fear

That sends the vulnerable to places of shelter

In the arms of those thought to be stronger and wiser.

 

 

In its passing, rain is the prism of rainbows

Encouraging all to be forgiven

As a new promise is made.

 

When the rains come

How will we experience the world and its Keepers,

Sometimes kind, sometimes harsh?

Will we be thankful or serve as judges

Of God

or

ourselves?

The element of the Universe we know as a key to life—-

The critical component of survival

Our predecessors prayed for, danced for, or meditated upon.

 

When the rains come

Who will we have become?

 

Karen Weber

July 1, 2013

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