Fire Rain Down.
I saw the rain pour down on the mountain that day from a hole in the forest where a field had been cut. The performance of the omnipotent storm was spectacular. Clouds gathered from all corners of the sky- left and right and from above- piercing the calm with a chaos of darkness and destruction. Thunder boomed and lightning charged through the sky. But I was not in its stormy path; I was alone in the middle of nowhere, removed, on a high seat on a homely brown water tower.
It was the storm of the summer. From my secret place where the sky was full of sun-setting warmth and the mountains surrounded me, I beheld the distant storm. Austin and KJ took part in the euphoric dance of a cleansing downpour, and Ruth, from a kayak on the lake, saw the covenant rainbow advance through the air and dip into the water below her boat. Burdens were washed away. Joy and peace came in with the storm: blessings from above, blessings to us each as God knew we needed—and we later shared them together in our cabin by the woods. As the stormy sky dissolved into fiery sunset, our hearts ignited with songs of praise, and we did that night what we were created to do. We worshipped. We worshipped the Maker of heaven and earth, worshipped because we had been soaked by rain of heaven. Worshipped because the rain brought in a sunset of fire, worshipped because we were ignited by grace.