We Sure Can Feel The Rain

Vincent van Gogh Wheat Field In Rain c.1889

 As a child, a large boom of thunder would easily wake me.  I was frightened by the sounds and sights of a storm.  If my twin hadn't woken up on her own, I would simply say her name and she was awake. I was afraid, and Jenny shared my fear with me, as we pushed our matching twin beds next to each other...holding hands till the storm was gone.

As a teenager, severe weather excited me.  I marveled at a strike of lightening. Watched as fierce winds blew and storms ran their course.  In my younger adult years my life itself was a storm. 

That storm too, has passed.

Now, when I am awakened by the sounds of a severe storm, I feel every part of the storm.  I feel the rain. I FEEL THE STORM. I am afraid.  I awake and watch as my farmer tethers himself to live radar, hoping the storm will pass, leaving only rain. 

We watch. We listen, WE PRAY. 

I am frightened. I worry. We worry.  The rain pours down and the winds blow. We listen to every sound a storm makes. We listen hoping we don't hear the dreaded ting of hail.

I hear it. I FEEL IT. I cry.  

There isn't much hail...on this field.  Water runs down my face, like the water running down the window of our room. I cry. I cry for my husband, our neighbors, all farmers. Hail devastates. The hail is minimal. The storm passes. I hold my farmer. He holds me. We fall asleep.

We are farmers. We feel the rain, We feel the lack of it. 

We dance the line of knowing storms can bring both sustenance and cessation.

We pray for families, farmers, and fields...
That they weather the storms of life and that you always have someone to hold onto when you feel the rain.

The Steffls