Pitter patter.

Just now, as I was studying at my desk, it went from a still quiet to a thousand pitter patters.

I opened my window just a crack so I could hear it better.  You should hear it — tapping, pattering, tinging and pinging.  Big drops splashing and splattering; small drops landing more softly.

To some, rain gives rise to complaining and cursing.  To others, rain gives rise to grateful praise.

It’s the same rain.  The difference is just a matter of perspective.  A matter of knowing the Who who sends it.

I have called Thee Abba, Father!
I have stayed my heart on Thee.
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather,
All must work for good to me …

Think what Spirit dwells within thee,
What a Father’s smile is thine,
What a Savior died to win thee;
Child of heaven, shouldst thou repine?

(From a hymn by Henry Francis Lyte, 1793-1847)

Life in/through/from death.

My friend, Steph, got me thinking about autumn yesterday.  The colors, the scents, and the thoughts that this season ushers in.

I’m glad I was born in the month of October. There’s something beautiful about autumn. There’s almost a solemn preparation for winter. The air is crisper; the world seems more awake than it did during the summer. There’s a beauty in the dying, a beauty in the sweet surrender of the life that faithfully comes and goes — rusty oranges, deep reds, golden-edged yellows, and transient shades of brown. It reminds me of spiritual truths.

This is our Creator’s handiwork.  This is how He would portray the season of dying — with rich, warm, attention-drawing colors, as if to say, “See?  See how there is beauty in death?  See how beautifully they die?  See how they die gracefully, regally … but not purposelessly, not with finality?”

But each day is a new lesson on how to die to myself so I can experience the rebirth that comes from the gospel of the cross, waiting, hoping and trusting …
(Stephanie Shin)

We do not die to ourselves just to die.  We die that we might live and be raised with Christ.  That we might walk in newness of life.  That we might display His life, His person in us.

Take my life and let it be,
A hidden cross revealing Thee.
(C.T. Studd)

It’s a blessing to celebrate the life He’s given during such a season.

Bare no more.

I got a bit of a sweet surprise recently.

Remember the bare trees I wrote about just a couple weeks ago?

They’re now completely white with blossom.

:]

Reminders from Rain.

I don’t mind rainy days – in fact, I sort of revel in them. & I don’t mean the drizzling kind; I mean the downpours.

A couple days ago, it rained for a couple hours while I was at school. I kept the classroom door open during class so I could hear the pattering. The students complained about how unexpected it was & how their shoes were soaked like over-watered houseplants (haha ok, so they didn’t make that exact comparison . . .), but I just smiled & thought of my long, umbrella-less walks in the rain during college. I would come back to my room completely drenched but happy.

I do prefer bright, warm days with plenty of sunshine, but something about rainy days makes me slow down, reflect, & praise God.

The rain in the Bay Area rarely comes unaccompanied by dark clouds & a chilling wind, but apart from the dismal appearance, the rain does so much good. It brings life, it cleanses, it nourishes . . . much like the rain in our lives.

Are trials (inner or circumstantial or relational) ever pleasant at the moment? Hardly. Often, they’re dismal, wearying, & even mentally & emotionally torturesome. But what good it does for us who are in Christ (really, could we expect anything other than “good” from our Abba Father who loves us?)! We view the world so differently during our rainy days . . . often, the small, petty, fleeting things of the world truly appear to be so, & we experience in truth the promised sufficiency of His grace.

Praise God for the rain, for these earthly illustrations of His ways. The created rain brings us reminders of its (& our) faithful Creator. Rejoice.

It’s supposed to rain again tomorrow . . .

:]