Rain. Rain. Rain. Slight rain. Torrential rain. Jungle rain. Pouring rain. Running through the rain. Freezing rain. Warm rain. Dancing in the rain. Freely falling rain. Wet from the rain. Lost in the rain. The forest in the rain. The city in the rain. Drenched in rain! Rain, rain, rain!
Spinning, diving, down, down from the largest, gray cloud. Whipping around with the wind, the tiny drop heads straight from on high to the top of a towering pine tree, but the wind is so fierce, there’s no fighting back. The drop lets go and rides the wind to her destined spot on that pine, but no, she ends up on a lowly shrub; oh! A blueberry bush!
Mom doesn’t mind when Karen and I run out the door without shoes or jackets to play in the rain. She says goodbye and have a great time. We return dripping buckets, soaked and exhilarated. Mom offers us hot cocoa and collects our wet clothes to put in the dryer. Our hair is matted to our faces. Our feet are as tough on the bottom as rubber boots.
A million, billion, trillion droplets of precipitation gather in the vast, expansive sky, condensing a multitude of microscopic molecules, hydrogen and oxygen, quickening, interacting, exploding, bursting into heavy drops of water that can no longer suspend in the atmosphere, but must plummet at an dizzying pace. “Whoosh,” we go, we sing, we zoom, we laugh, we cry, we dance, we praise, this great collective mass of whirling, swirling moisture now turned to rain. We are the rain! We love participating in the precious downpour that saturates the earth, causing good things to grow, nurturing both the old and the new.
Walking to school in the rain, in yellow slickers, we pass the brook that meanders through the neighbors’ backyards to the duck pond, eventually reaching the Bay. Our little brook has swollen from a small trickle of creek to an almost real river. The pebbles of sand and brown mud by the side are soft and we can’t resist the muck; our boots sink deliciously deep as the water swirls around, inside, soaking our socks. We aren’t children off to school; we are bushwhackers climbing mountains, exploring the woodlands, living on wild edibles: green onions, crab apples, acorns and maple sap. We will build a raft from fallen logs and float out to sea and supplement our diet with fresh fish. Distracted by our dreams, when we finally realize we are very late, we dash to school, and the teacher scolds us. But she also allows us to stand in front of our classmates for “show and tell” and share with them the story of our brave expedition in the rain.
Once we were molecules in the ocean, but then we evaporated, floating freely up into the sunny sky, an invisible gas, no one would even notice us as we went right on by. We are not one, we are many; we are not lone, solitary individuals, but a massive group. There’s millions and billions and trillions and zillions of us, all with the same commitment of purpose, dedicated to endlessly repeating the cycle, throughout the days and weeks and years. Circling through the seasons, through the ages and millennia, searching for each other in the sky, meeting, gathering, organizing, collecting, condensing, until we burst forth in showers, rush and return to the world below! Over and over we go united in our goal, , the delightful dance of being the wet moisture that gladdens the earth, causing Creation to rejoice in receiving the water that makes all life possible, nurturing a new generation.. Nothing would grow in the parched earth, in the dry desert, in the aching land, without the rain that falls to replenish the reservoirs, the lakes, the rivers, the ponds, the streams, the wells, the water table supplies that lay hidden deep beneath the surface of the soil.
Forest in the rain. The scenery is stunning. A storm of release. Sweet scents of herbs and wildflowers. The earth is moist. The cloud scuttle away in the wind. Silenced song birds start to sing. Sun rays shine through. Small buried seeds sprout towards the warmth and light. I’m so glad to be alive.
Quietly floating to the heavens to await the next mission, it’s a wonderful life of giving, of purity of purpose, not asking why or wherefore: we act and do as G-d directs, and we go where G-d sends us, on the wings of the wind that blows where He wills. We go up and then fall from awesome Heights.
First it was a few flurries mixed with rain. The river fills up, , becoming wider. How will we cross? Should we plunge in and get soaked? Where will we warm up? How to build a fire if the kindling is damp? Our knuckles are numb. Our noses are red. Our eyes are teary. We are sopping wet and we love it. But we have to stay warm!
One little globule of water around for ages.The things I’ve seen, all parts of the planet—a beautiful world.
We are humble. We know our smallness. But we are overwhelmingly united. We love each other. We are mist. We are fog. We are drizzle. We are sprinkles. We are downpours. We are sleet and snow and storms. We are torrential hurricanes.
I awaken to that unmistakable sound. I am enthralled, listening, “ah!” The patter on the roof is so soothing. I feel cleansed. Listen. The downpour grows stronger. G-d’s love is so powerful. He provides us with rain. I am always thirsty. No matter how much I drink, I need to drink more.
The drops. They coast and slide and slip. They dance and skip, hasten and hurry. They quench the thirst of all living beings.
Now I can hear the first pitter patter, it gathers strength, pounding heavily on the tarp, the rafters, the metal roofing… light sprinkles make way for drenching downpours.
The puddle receives. The pond receives. The lake receives. The earth receives. The rivers swell. The ocean accepts the tributaries that come from every corner. The waters from every continent mix within the Sea. The rain is absorbed and distributed. The molecules swirl, evaporate, ascend, and begin the dance again. I am a raindrop full of joy, grateful to be part of this wide endeavor to spread Life-Giving Drink to all the World.
For extra energy and a positive attitude to make this a special time of celebration, read Chava’s book: Prepare for
Pesach B’simchah! 40 Lifesaving Lessons to Help You Reach the Finish Line! an inspiring book about the power of simchah to transform our lives!
Chava is a doula, editor and writer living in Jerusalem. She is a Torah educator who is happily busy with births, teaching, giving workshops, and
enjoying her family.