I spent Wednesday away from the ranch; when I left, the sky was overcast but there was not so much as a spatter of raindrops.
I checked in by phone periodically. Any rain?
No.
What about now?
No.
And then at 11:34 I received this picture from DJ, along with the words "Finally getting some rain!"
As my friend and I went about our tasks in Calgary we were almost blown over by some of the wind gusts. We heard of the tornado warnings and thought about the Good Rancher, who was making his way back from Lethbridge.
Finally, at about 8 pm, I was home. The first thing I did was check the rain gauge:
Half an inch!
I was so excited. The air smelled clean. As I hauled groceries into the house the three cats clawed at the door, wanting to get into the brisk outdoors. Olivia decided that discretion was the better part of valour in this unknown weather pattern.
Jack and Charlie, however, swooped out and hurtled around the corner, to be brought up short by the overflowing rainwater tank - I must confess that I was brought up short by it too. How does a mere half an inch fill a bone-dry water trough like that?!
That half inch earlier was merely a teaser. The rain had arrived in earnest now!
All through that evening and into the night it tapped out its persistent percussion on the tin roof drum above our heads.
I was getting ready to settle The Nine in for the night, and I didn't see the GR at one of his regular evening dozing spots in the living room. But as I went down the hall the light showed me a glimpse of that man lying relaxed for the first time in many months.
"I'm just listening to the beautiful music," he murmured.
I thought about the time I took him to a performance of Handel's Messiah by the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra and Chorus. I never sensed in him the depth of awe and joy I experience when I hear the magnificent old masterpiece.
But this night, I finally got it.
This was the GR's Hallelujah Chorus.
Finally the household occupants were all tucked in for the night. I filled the electric kettle and flicked on the switch. As the water started to shift and heat in preparation for my hot water bottle, I was propelled toward the front door. Opening it, I stepped onto the top step and felt the immediate impact of water and wind.
And in it I heard the still, small voice, a whisper, a caress in my ear:
This is what God does. He gives his best—the sun to warm and the rain to nourish—to everyone, regardless: the good and bad, the nice and nasty. (Matthew 5:45, the Message)
I stayed there for long moments trying to take it all in - the wind weaving through the rain, the scorched grass tentatively stretching its blades upward again, the certain knowledge that God loves us all.
And finally, I could breathe.
But the next morning I was awakened by a shout: "Check out the rain gauge!"
(This includes the half inch from the previous day's afternoon showers.)
The wonder of it all!
