I welcome the grey sky and the swaying pines, looking towards kitchen window, I’m anticipating a good rain.
I chose today to rest. Said yesterday, if I can finish this, I’ll stay home tomorrow.
I worked with the goal of completing the task and tried my best to express differently, convey more clearly a need for support.
I’m anxious. I’m apathetic. I fear it may show.
I’d said it all before, usually mostly the same ways in copy paste fashion. Asking for support, articulating a need and lining it up with a result, an outcome.
I write grants, ask for money to help homeless families.
It’s impossible to share in full how important our interventions are. It’s even harder to ask for money, to sell your heart’s work as if it’s a product or commodity.
Hard to think business when your work thrives on heart.
So, I let it rest.
The incomplete application saved to resume on Monday.
Walk away from it. Let it sit. Let it rest.
Deciding to start fresh another day. For now, Friday feels like Saturday and I walk out into the yard, the view from kitchen window making me hopeful for rain.
I rest a minute, the thunder’s way off. Hydrangea and hosta, richer, deeper blue and green, waiting in shade of intermission.
Then, the rain comes.
101 degrees just moments ago, I watch rain through the window, thin and straight sheets like arrows.
Just a few minutes and it’s done, so I go to see the flowers planted round the pool, bright again and refreshed.
The pool empty and shimmery blue, a single leaf floating in repose.
Thunder again in the distance, inviting more rest and more rain.
I welcome you, rest and rain. I welcome your blessing, your end to my season of draught. Welcome, rain.
And I will make them and the places all around my hill a blessing, and I will send down the showers in their season; they shall be showers of blessing.