It is raining. The smell of rain is distinct and a change from the dryness and pollen-laden air that it cleans as it falls on the grass and the earth. It is refreshing and brings memories of spring rain from years past and early childhood; memories of running barefoot through wet grass with upturned face to catch the rain, of skidding and falling and not caring, enjoying a moment that still lives in my heart and imagination. Too often today I run through the rain rather than into it, trying to keep dry rather than to be refreshed and renewed. I think here in the rain is the presence of the holy, the mystery of creation itself, caressing as it falls to earth bringing life to all it touches.
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