I step out on the balcony and sit in the old rocker, just so I can hear it. It started coming down in earnest just as I approached the stairwell leading to my door, cool and soothing on my skin. I just want to hear it. Just watch it come down and flow in rivulets on the concrete. How long have I needed the rain to fall? That chorus rings in my head, I believe You will come like the rain... I believe You will come like the rain. I sing it to myself. And all the pent up stress and tension and fear and anxiety rises to the surface and runs down my cheeks. Release. I believe You will come like the rain. I can hear the planes, but I can't see them through the gray. The whole world looks like that, gray. I used to think it a terrible color. Now I've learned to savor it, the way it soothes and breathes, and makes the grass look a little greener and the red of the curb stand out a little brighter. My senses have been on overload. I breathe thanks for the grays. I leave the sliding door open so I can keep listening.
This morning, I wasn't sure I would make it. I went to bed early last night. Body weary and eye lids heavy before nine o'clock. Still I woke up exhausted. The list of things I had to do slapped me in the face and kept getting longer. My anxiety level was through the roof. The corners of my mouth too weighted down by my heavy heart to smile. My feet felt like lead. Not enough time! I wanted to cry. Too much weight! And then the digging of the pit began... Why can't I handle this? Why can't I control how I feel? What is wrong with me? Why is everything fine but I feel like everything is wrong? Why am I the only one crumbling under the weight of it all? Lies.
He tells me he's let himself run late so he could stop and pray for me. He says that rain always represents God's providence and that he prays that I'll see Him today, not just all the things that need to be taken care of, not just a bunch of rowdy children. I can hear him singing it when I can't... I believe He will come like the rain. This man... He is believing for me. And this is the duet we will sing together for the rest of our lives, trading parts and switching harmonies with the seasons.
My soul longs for You. My soul longs for You. Nothing else will do. Nothing else will do.
I believe You will come like the rain. I believe You will come like the rain.
The cry and the answer. The falling on the knees and the lifting of the head. The deep need and the deep trust. My man has been strong in my weakness. He has shown me saving grace in the desert. He will need me to do the same soon. Someday all he will feel is the longing and it will be my turn to sing the other part. For now, I let him embrace me and offer grace and forgiveness, until I can join him to sing it in unison, I believe You will come like the rain. And He does. I don't know what tomorrow will look like, but today, I have seen prayers answered in changes of heart and in simple practical ways like an extra 45 minutes to work due to an unexpected field trip. And I have listened to the rain. And it is enough for today, and a bright hope for tomorrow... Great is His faithfulness.
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