Today the gift was being able to wake up in the dark to the sound of a soaking rain outside. The front was arriving at dusk last night. I went out into the park to look at the low grey clouds that were seeping across the sky in bands. The leading edge of the large front from the ocean.
This morning I woke up before three and went to pray the Rosarry, and then came back and slept until past six o'clock, and lingered in bed until past seven, which seems scandalous. It was still dark. The rain was pattering on the roof, in metallic thuds from contact with drainage pipes. It is the night of the year. We are all supposed to be resting from the effort of the year. The true Christmas season. It is a time to trust in the safety of God to preserve us, as the baby Jesus was preserved in the cradle.
When I think of soaking rain, I now think of the trees and cacti that may tip over in the mushy ground, so I hope it is not a too-heavy-at-once situation. Everything has a price, even the beautiful soaking rain.
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