It rained on Sunday. It rained so hard and the porch awning was drumming so loudly, that no one could talk below a yell and be heard. My son and I were on the porch, he was trying to get the rain to fall in his mouth and getting his face and hands all wet in the dripping/pouring off the roof. I was smoking a cigarette, talking w/ friends and watching him enjoy God's blessing of water.

His hair was getting wet, his church clothes wetter.. his little feet were bare, and his dress pants getting soaked up to the knee. Still I sat watching my son try to catch the rain in his little hand.. saying "look, momma!" So I smile, and watch. Pretty soon it is raining even harder, the plants hanging on the porch looking like they were fancy faucets, water was coming in such a steady stream from the vents on the bottom.

My son and I were going to go inside, It was a little chilly, you see, and I was concerned that he would be cold. Two minutes later, and the thunder started, so my son and I go rushing back out onto the porch. Me, to enjoy God's power in His storm. My son, because he is curious, and wants to play w/ the dripping roof some more.

We stand near the steps this time. Our seats were taken in our brief absence. My son likes it better here, though, because now he can get his head wet! Down the step till he feels the rain plinking on his soft blond hair, and then uppity jump, back on the porch to examine this feeling in his hair with his chubby hands.

"Come on, Momma" says he, and off we go into the rain. By now, the company on the porch is watching us, wondering what on earth momma is doing letting the not-even-three year old play in the pouring rain. Momma doesn't care.

These are the moments that will last forever in a child's mind, and one of the only true gifts a mom can give.

Within seconds, we are drenched, my hair dripping in my face. My church clothes getting steadily stiffer, I slick my hair back so I can see to play, ignoring the rain dripping into my eyes.

We see puddles, lots of puddles, and our feet cannot resist the splashing, swooshing wonder of rainwater between our toes. I call for my daughter, knowing she will be upset if I allow her to miss this special time in the rain.

Out she comes.. running.. so anxious to play in the rain that her shoes and socks come flying off faster than the rain is falling down. In her pink church dress, she plays. Running, giggling, splashing momma with a mischievous happiness on her face. Knowing I won't be angry, but enjoying the rare privilege of "getting" me.

The rain ebbs a bit, and the company can't take letting us alone to our fun any longer. Fairly soon, there is a group of four children and four adults, all splashing in the flooded street, making the puddles shallower.. using their water to drench each other.

Everyone is laughing, everyone is happy. There is no cause for sadness, the rain washed it all away.. and when the rain stopped, and we were all dried off, still giggling and cheerful from our romp.. I turned back to see what was left of the puddles, and watched all that days stresses for all of us wash down into the storm drains.