Not the sunbaked mesa desert or the rolling dunes desert; I live in the sagebrush and rattlesnake desert.
In a desert, our life-water is in the sky. We cannot live unless it falls down, we are at the mercy of the falling of the rain. On those rare Spring days, days like today, when the temperature rises above "snow pants" and catches the sky between frozen and desiccated...
when clouds hang low and begin to melt,
when all of my weeds are still green,
as the drops wash the lies from my face,
...I feel my heart begin to breathe again.
The pressure pours out of me like tears...and I remember...
Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth. Hosea 6:3
I remember that He remembers me.
I remember God, reaching down like a mother bird, feeding his children with bread from the sky.
I remember the time that God reached down from heaven and became the Bread from the sky.
I remember the time that God poured Himself out in water and blood.
It falls down on me as suddenly as salvation, as unstoppable as redemption.
It is not only His grace that is falling, God himself falls on me like rain.
And I love the rain.