Rain

The umbrella created a silo of dry. It was a space where I could stand or walk with my phone in my pocket without the fear it would be destroyed. It is an old phone and it might be a blessing to have to get it replaced, but I didn't like the hassle of the Verizon store. Also, as I would have to go back to my desk after these couple miles of walking, I didn't think it would be very comfortable to have a soaked shirt. Purple today, in case you were. Interested.

Reuben, my walking partner, and I walk down the steps of the building we work in and I am instantly immersed in the white noise. It starts in hearing the drops. A single crystal of water exploding with a slap on the wet pavement. Then, you hear them in patterns. More, than less. Like rhythmic waves, an audio wind. Soon, you realize it is not just a drop, or wave of drops, but many waves, which become a collage of soothing sound.

There is no thunder today, but if there had been, I probably would have walked anyway. There is something about the electric break in the sky followed by the deep base of thunder. It enlivens the rhythm of the rain. But, that is not the music today. Today it is all pops and slaps, and the whisper of a thousand drops.

The weight of the water has dragged down the branches of the pine trees we walk under. In addition, each of us are carrying umbrellas. So, had you been see us, you would have see us each hunched over, trying to get low enough so the peak of the umbrella doesn't catch in these, now, five foot high branches. I might be the only one who notices the oddness of how we look, so I say nothing.

Under those same trees, I noticed the smell of the rain. The match set to the sound. In addition to the normal water smell, in this space you could draw in the odor of the nature churning. Fresh turned dirt and a light pine smell.

We talk on church and family and God, but as good as it is, it is not as inspiring as the rain. The sound. The smell. The being wrapped in it all. We talk about the things God has done, but we are walking through what God is doing. I worship silently, as not to smudge the masterpiece.