Warm summer rain upon warm skin, a moment for the soul to connect to the deep joy a sense of the sacred bequeaths.
Puddles grew as if the land of Narnia had sent them to fetch us, their surfaces dancing with each perfect individual sky-gift. How odd, through Sheila, that rain is cloud born yet Earth borne, as if a reflection of the relationship between the heavens and creation. It was as if that summer rain came to remind us of the natural reign that stayed within each soul, souls born of heaven, borne of mother Earth, each needing her support and nurture.
In those sun warmed blessed drops, the petals of each garden bloom began to open. It was as if before, in the bud, they had been as hands in prayer only to broaden in confidence as they heard their prayer answered. And so we sat there, he and I, in that summer rain, thankful that it had come at long last.
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