I left the house in a giant rainstorm, and for the first hour here in the chapel, I could see the driving rain through the big picture window behind the altar. At mid-morning the gray sky and some ominous black clouds dimmed the light inside, and muted the green of the trees outside.
As I was praying the sorrowful mysteries, I kept looking over the tree tops to see if the rain would stop so I could catch a glimpse of a rainbow. The rain continued to fall, and I found myself fingering the silver beads to a musical beat from the rain dripping off the eaves.
It was hypnotic and oddly comforting, like a heartbeat providing a steady soundtrack for my prayers. The rain eventually slowed down to a gentle shower, like it had spent itself in a passionate outburst. Having calmed down and recovered, it was getting down to the business of reviving all the parched trees and grass.
I couldn’t wait to go outside later and see how lush and refreshed everything would be. It’s like the earth is renewed and we’re given a new playground to begin again.
Yes, Margaret, I played in the mud, too.