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Drizzle

Yesterday afternoon it started drizzling. The raindrops were small and it barely looked like rain. They fell softly. They fall straight down. There was not wind, no lightening, no thunder. The temperature was cool but not cold or chilly. It rained steady for over an hour. It smelled of rain and that smell lingered for hours after the rain had passed. It was a peaceful rain, barely noticed.

Rain is symbolic. It washes us, taking away the dust, the taint, the heat. We wash our hands to protect ourselves and others from sickness. We bath to be clean and to start each day fresh. Rain settles the pollen. It puts out fires. It cleans the streets. In baptism, we are washed clean of our sins. We promise to sin no more.

A pounding rain can mirror the fury of a heart or the dark journey of a soul. But a drizzling rain is different. Yesterday’s drizzle is its own symbol. It was silence and peace. It created a place of sanctuary and solitude. It was a gift, a sweet offering to the dryness of the land.

A seed can be planted.

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