The sky was filled with angry formations, the air was tender. Droplets fell from the sky faster than my windshield wipers could clear my view. The birds were silent, causing the sound of the rain to nearly echo as it fell.

My heart was tired that day, just exhausted from the everyday struggle. The pitter patter against the glass made me anxious in one way, and at the very same time it calmed me. Anxiety roamed my mind, just loud enough to remind me he was looming. Lingering somewhere in the darkness of my conscious, telling me something horrible was going to happen. Whispering tormenting thoughts of my past and screaming uncertainties of my future, or lack thereof.

The falling beads also brought some form of comfort, a familiarity. I have spent my fair share of time wiping similar droplets from my eyes.  Sometimes because circumstances were so much bigger than myself, other times because the goodness of the Father overwhelmed me. Every once in a while, tears would fall because a peace that surpasses all understanding would firmly silence those voices that tormented my mind. That hush, what a sweet fragrance in the midst of a storm. A stillness that stops the angry clouds from raging, if only long enough for a deep breath.

When the commotion continues, as it often will, that breath gives us life to keep treading. I am thankful for the tranquility the Holy Spirit offers us. I am thankful for the storms that rage, that send us crawling to the Father to find that peace. I am thankful for the rain.