It isn't until later, not until I've found refuge that I stop to listen. I focus on the rain; thousands of drops of water weighing down on everything around me. I hear them gently falling upon the grass, beating down upon the rough sidewalk, muffled thuds pitter-patter rhythmically on the roof above me; my senses are alerted to my surroundings in a way that brings life to my world.
I enjoy the sound of rain from within my shelter. It is here that the chaos becomes a spectacle for the senses.
Right now I'm feeling somewhat caught in the middle of a storm. Trying to decide on which path Leah and I will take with a major decision has me running in all directions trying to find answers. I feel overwhelmed by possibilities beyond my control, desperately seeking protection and guidance. However, despite feeling soaked by this uncertainty part of me is aware of the beauty of this metaphorical storm. I long to experience even this situation with the sort of rested calm that accompanies shelter.
In demanding answers to difficult questions, I need to learn the patience to listen to the storm around me, even if it does involve getting soaked in the process.
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