I got up this morning and wanted to be inspiring.
I wanted to write and create and help mend someone’s soul.
But instead, I stared at my computer and bore witness to my own lack of inspiration.
I read through books and considered my life and thought through recent movies, but nothing came.
Finally, I heard the footsteps of my children in the hallway, and I knew my quiet time was ended.
I walked away from my work and waited for a simmer to share.

But the day was simply a day.
I found myself in laundry and lunches, to-do lists and emails.
God, I thought it would be hard to find you here, in the midst of my dirty dishes and dust filled well.

Until the rain started.

I found myself momentarily alone, in the semi-darkness, wrapped in rain.
Outside the window was enormous beauty, beating down on my browned grass, feeding my drooping plants.
They raised their heads for the gift, and I found that so did I.

The boom was close and rattled me aware.
How long had it been since I had heard thunder?
I physically called out.
The spark shook me alive.

I thought, “Of course, THIS, this IS just the kind of space and place to soothe my soul…
Quiet, aware, doing the work of life, the simple stuff.”
I realized today that it isn’t always the Ghandis and the Mother Teresas that will change the world.
It is very often that the world is changed because of clean sheets and fresh towels.
Sandwiches without crusts and frozen chicken nuggets.
Kisses and hugs.
A movie in the dark with a super hero popsicle.

The world is often changed because we doubt, and wonder, and still bother to wait for rain.

I felt soothed.

My soul still knows what it is to be parched and longing for rain.
But I also know the sound of thunder, and I believe it.