I waited for it; the long-promised 'big rain', the one that would feed the ground with renewing life, that would set things green again. 'It's coming,' said the weather guy, 'and it's gonna be big.' Driving early yesterday morning, I see the first spatters on my windshield. Thing is, it didn't turn into the pouring rain predicted; it just...stopped. Then started again, a few splattering drops any time I ventured outside for errands. What a rip-off, I thought; more of the same. Not even enough rain to wash the dust off the grill cover, not enough to pearl up on the bird feeder roof. Not enough.
This morning, again woke to grey, threatening skies --- the haze that makes you squint and vaguely unsettles you. And then it came: not heralded by thunder and lightning, not accompanied by gusts of wind. The rain came in sheets, one drop indistinguishable from another. Rain you couldn't stay awake in, rain you couldn't see through, the soaking rain. It didn't last long, though I think it may pay a return visit.
And then I realized: yesterday's rain had been the softening rain, loosening up sere soil and parched lawns. The softening rain, then, had not been a disappointing outcome, but a promise, a readying of the thirsty earth for the soaking rain of this day.
When you look at your life, are there times when you are disappointed by what may be only a softening rain? Await with expectation the soaking.
