Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Praying in the Rain

Good morning, dear one.

Today is the first spring storm. Can you hear it, too? I hope you can as you start your day.

Did you ever really listen to a storm? There is that ragged pulse of falling rain, and the growl of thunder. Lightning blinks and blinds, and in the midst of all this wildness, you can hear the cawing of birds calling to one another some strange comfort. You can hear the chorus of insects. You can hear the breath of wind rising and falling. It is a symphony of life.

But you may not notice this if you are not quiet. That brings me to what I want to share with you today: Before you pray, get quiet.

There is a time for earthly things, and there is a time to attend to the things of God. It may take you awhile to get to this quiet, but it can be done. I promise you that.

It's good to go somewhere where you can be alone. I know privacy is sometimes scarce in the modern world, so if you have to, make a quiet place inside of you. And sit there.

I'm in bed as I write. Ken is quiet and heedless in sleep beside me. The television is on in the living room. My sister is watching the Cosby Show. I've closed the door to the sound of reruns. I listen for the hush that is my entrance into the mystery.

I begin with this sweet rain. I close off all other thoughts, and it is only rain I hear. It has captured my attention, and when I am fully engaged by it's magic, I open to experience the thunder, and the birds, and the insects, the swoosh of tires as cars rush by taking passengers to work or school. The rowdy ball of children screeching, wet, and tumbling toward the school yard, and in hearing all these things in quiet, the still small voice of God comforts me. I'm here. There is the sound of me in the storm, in God's world, and I am safe in Him. I belong. And all of this began with just hearing rain. In giving myself fully to one sound, I opened the door to amazing grace. That's how you pray in the rain, pumkin.

Before you pray, quiet yourself until you can hear but one thing, His loving presence. And that Love, that God himselfness, it will reveal all kinds of good things to you.

Try it dearest. Let me know how it goes.


Candy said...

"I listen for the hush that is my entrance into the mystery." I love this sentence, along with many others in this post. I'm going to go do it. But first, I want you to know it's been a long time since anyone called me "pumpkin" and I liked it. God led me here today for a reason. Thank you, Claudia.

violet said...

oh my, i like these lessons... i will be back for more

- pumpkin

Heather Diane Tipton said...

Oh, Wow, Raga, I'm loving these. I need them too.
Bless you. May you continue to write what the Lord puts on your heart.

radioreb said...

Wow, Rags..."I listen for the hush that is my entrance into the mystery." That is the single coolest line since Costello bellowed, "now the angels want to wear my red shoes."

Awesome foray into the mystic.

Still working on changin a church and bringing on the bloggers!


sabbath day's journey said...

Oh, how glad I am to have found you (thanks to Mr. Standfast!). What a beautiful post. It's raining here, and your words remind me of the comfort I feel when I snuggle into the purple couch in the den when there is no one home. It is a welcomed thing to find God in the midst of our quietness and the midst of our stillness.
Peace to you,

Paula said...

Beautiful as always, my dear sister. Yesterday the Lord spoke to me through a friend reminding me to enter that sacred place and lay all of my stuff at His feet. Praying in the rain has so much to do with laying down our load, doesn't it--surrendering to the cleansing wash, revelling in the power and majest of the thunder . . .resting in the Divine.