When I look at my childhood, I remember every Sunday in church prayer requests were taken twice during the church service. The worst place in Texas when it is scorching hot is a church because no matter how cold the temperature on the thermostat stuffiness suffocates the room. It is easy to think God sent fire from Heaven. Eventually, a man walks to the pulpit and took prayer requests, each one rolls into the next: “Eunice’s cancer has returned, keep her in your prayers.. Sam’s son was in a wreck but He’s doing better.. and pray that we will receive some rain”. Any summer day in Texas that isn’t over 90 degrees is a“nice day”. The ground pleads for rain and Everyone prays until it comes.
Every summer since childhood I wear sandals almost everyday because they are comfortable and an easy way to look like Jesus. Unfortunately, a few days ago It becomes a choice I soon regret because it rained every day I wore them. Every step I take soaks my entire sandal. I step like a newborn giraffe through every puddle. Jesus doesn’t have this much trouble when He walks on water. When I arrive home, I rub my cold feet on the carpet to dry and warm them. I look out the window, watch the rain, and realize summer is over.
I know a few people who run into the rain and start dancing like in the movies. They think they transform into elegant creatures while I change into a Gene Kelly who practices modern dance and wears size 15 steel toed boots. They dance and twirl because rain starts a magical moment. I wish I was like these rain dancers because they know Rain, like grace, sustains life. Sometimes it sprinkles, others it pours, and sometimes we wait on it. We clumsily trip because we watch our feet instead of celebrate. The next time I’m in the cool fall rain I hope I dance and Grace soaks my sandals so I can take it with me. I stop and notice My skin absorbing the rain and I pray I seem graceful when the dance starts again.