RAIN. It rained yesterday, all day long. Everyday for the last 12 months I wake up, and hope it's raining. It rained twice in Egypt, a handful of times in India, twice in Colorado, once on the way to Santa Barbara, Once on the way home from Pool in Vegas, and now once (officially) here. It was a true storm, and seemingly the one I've been waiting for. It's funny how they seem to come just right when I need them. When I moved to Perth July '06, I moved straight into their winter. This suited me just fine, as I was pent up doing homework most of the time. With a warm "cuppa" a cozy shall, and my books about everything woman, I would settle down for hours under the rain pattered tin roof, soaking in the process of life. Some days it was my saving grace. When I was over whelmed by the reality of the school, about delivering babies... the rain would begin to fall and I would be reminded that life was going to be just fine. It rained often there. Then we left for Egypt, hot, dusty Egypt. It rained the week of my birthday. I took it as a special gift. Everything seemed to clean up a bit, even in Garbage City. It rained again the night before we left . After a day of running around, hindered by the wanted rain Michaela, Shannon and I cozied into our little flat, drank tea, ate cookies and watched "Jaws". The next morning, I was ready to fly to India. By the time we'd been in India three months, it began to be so overwhelmingly hot, I prayed for rain everyday. I remember once it began to rain as we were coming home from a slum at the outer edge of the city. As we drove home in an auto rickshaw, I couldn't take my eyes off the India I had grown to love and hate. In the rain, she looked so beautiful. It rained one of my last days at the hospital as well. I remember it had been a busy day, delivering babies, inserting IVs, giving medicine, life, death, running around... we'd stayed over time by hours. I was tired, I was hot, and then it began to rain. There are few windows in the hospital, most are just holes, where windows once were, covered by broken panes, or pieces of cardboard. As the rain poured down on the ancient hospital grounds I looked out in to the court yard, and fell in love all over again with the hospital I had grown to love and hate. She looked so beautiful in the rain.

Now I am home in California, where we are in the middle of a drought. But yesterday, I woke up to rain, sweet, beautiful, wonderful rain. I have found it hard to sleep this last week, as my mind has been going a mile a minute thinking things that should be laid to rest. So, tired, worn, and anxious I woke to rain. Over the last week I have received a few random text messages and emails from friends with verses about resting in the presence of God. Yesterday, I found rest. I woke up and drove my dad to Grover Beach to pick up the car at the shop. It was way back almost to Oceano. I was flooded with memories from going to school on the Mesa, and driving home everyday through those amazing trees. They looked even more beautiful in the rain. I drove all the way to Santa Margarita to visit my Grandma. The drive, even through a windshield wiped by shotty windshield wipers, was beautiful. Coming over the Cuesta Grade the fog, clouds, and rain were so heavy that I could hardly see the car in front of me. I drove slowly and carefully as I giggled to myself with pure joy. I drove through the teeny tiny town of Santa Margarita, a town I spent pieces of my childhood in, and sighed. The trees, and the grass looked so bright, the asphalt so clean, the houses so warm. My grandma and I had a nice visit. At 87, it's hard to see her frail. She informed me she had had another small stroke. The reality of her age hits me a little more every time I see her. It felt nice to walk out into the mercy of the rain. I drove the two minutes across the rail road tracks to my brothers house to watch my darling Julie Bess, but not before I stopped and got a chai at the local coffee shop. Words cannot tell how much I love that little wee one. It felt like a little piece of heaven to be looking at her learning to crawl, drinking my chai, watching the rain fall on the two huge red woods in my brother's front yard in my tiny little town of Santa Margarita.
Needless to say, I've been thankful for the rain. It was a bringer of light, healing, peace, and joy.

"I will lie down and sleep in peace,
for you alone, O LORD,
make me dwell in safety."
Psalm 4:8