Its 2am and am so very wide awake. Listening to the sounds happening all around me – the rain trying very hard to fall, broken tree branch hitting against a tree trunk, whistling wind, calendar hitting against the wall, curtains banging against window frames and the distant sound of barking dogs.
I’m wondering why I’m not attempting to feign sleep maybe he will have mercy on me and grant me a little reprieve. I woke up to a text – hence the reason my mind refuses to rest. The wonder of when my day break will come keeps me up. The fantasy of the doom that seems to lie in wait keeps my mind alert.
For the first time in days, the night wind is calming me – but I cannot even begin to enjoy it. He seems angry though, the rushing seems to keep increasing with the frequency of curtain banging. The distant rumbling of thunder promises release probably around day break.
Why is it so much easier to pray for rain than it is to pray for peace and calm? Is it because our lives are so used to chaos and turmoil that we can easily relate to it? Or is it because in certain parts even in the midst of a drought, rain is certainty?