It pours all around me. But not only around me: I’m covered in it. Unceasingly it falls, plummeting and erupting on my skin in the form of cool, misty micro-explosions. It’s so dense, so persistent, I’m hardly able to keep my eyes open. This rain…it’s as if it wants to drown me.
I’ve been alone all my life. The lonely city streets are all I’ve ever known. Even though I’m surrounded by people, that doesn’t mean I’m not alone. Because I am. And even though some days I’m dry and warm, it still feels like the rain is always falling. It never stops falling.
The city lights glow with hazy, tilting rays of light that shift in the air as I squint. Car lights flash around me, seeming so surreal in my world of water and wetness. My feet slosh loudly in the water amassing on the street, and I hear someone honk at me. But it sounds as if the noise came from afar, from a world where people actually acknowledge that I do exist. A world where people realize that I am a person. Wherever that world is, it’s not this one. It’s not my world.
As I enter onto a sidewalk, I hear something purr, and before I can react, I feel something brush warmly against my leg. It’s a cat. A black cat. Just my luck…
But the cat doesn’t stop embracing me. Maybe the animal is cold. Maybe it’s wet, just like me. I disengage from the little creature, and acting purely on my emotions, I squat down in front of the cat and offer it my hand. We aren’t so different, I realize. The rain is falling on us both.
The cat seems afraid of me at first. Maybe it’s going to abandon me like everybody else. Maybe it’s going to run away.
But it doesn’t. Pressing it’s forehead against my hand, it purrs loudly, even over the rain, and I’m surprised to find that I’m happy. I’m happy that I found this cat, or that it found me. I’m happy that we could share this moment together, in the rain. I’m happy that there’s someone who understands me. Although I’m sure it’s a silly feeling, I find myself thinking, “Maybe I’m not alone.”
And that makes me think of You. And that brings me back to the rain. It’s so persistent, the way it falls around me. It doesn’t stop trying. Maybe it’s trying to drown me. Maybe it wants to fill me. Maybe You want it to fill me. And maybe that’s what I should be letting it do. Because this rain isn’t really rain at all.
And it doesn’t stop coming. It doesn’t stop trying to wash me. It doesn’t stop trying to fill me. Because it’s from You. And You know what I need. You know how I feel.
I was right. I’m not alone.
Thank You for this rain.
“If His grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking”-David Crowder Band “How He Loves”
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