Sitting on my porch, it starts to rain, but I continue writing. It’s falling all around me, but I’m okay under my canopy unless there’s a strong wind.

Movies love using rain as a tool. It introduces you to a change in the character’s behavior. The star has a breakup and walks home in the ? The star finally realizes (after 1:45 minutes, something we already know) that she’s the one and then runs to stand in front of her window in the ? Then there’s the classic Gene Kelly, “so happy again,” prancing around in the ? until the policeman almost arrests him for enjoying himself. A tad too much? If my sitting underneath it is calling for a change within me, then I’m not so sure. My plants and trees may love it, but I’m leery about me. Change?

The ? around me now does it pitter-patter as though it’s a melody waiting for lyrics. (My favorite sentence, so it’s bold.) New words to add to my unfolding life? Listen to the “Rhythm of the Falling Rain” come to mind, “telling me just what a fool I’ve been…” (Ricky Nelson). “Little did I know that when she left day, along with her, she took my heart.” A stretch, but still.

You run out to join in it, when you’re young, until your mom yells that you’ll soon die if you don’t come in. You lift your head back, open your mouth and attempt to catch as many of those heavenly drops as you can. At home, hearing your clothes circling around as they dry, you still taste the droplets that arrived from above.

Those ? can be enjoyable when cooling off the evening’s heat. Spiritually, those ? can also be a call to something new, a challenging change, a revision/readjustment, a return to something you thought you lost, a renewal of this life gift God’s given, a genuine smile for all that has been, and a trust in what will be.

The rain on my porch stopped, but the corner drain drops a steady beat like my heart. What is the ? alerting or telling me? Oh, wait, it’s just a spring rain. Or is it more?