The Sweet Mojave Rain

Most of my house was giddy this morning.

Rain.

Rain!

There was some digging through the closets for the rain jackets we haven't used since our trip to British Columbia.

There was an unsuccessful trip out to the storage room to hunt for the bent and broken umbrellas that we only use once or twice a year.

Olivia could hardly contain herself.  She must have kissed me four times in her excitement over the foreboding skies.  And as she was leaving she declared dramatically, "I'm off to make wedge history!  Wish me luck, mother!"  (That is a direct quote.)  And then swept out into the wet.

Savannah, on the other hand, clearly felt duty bound to counteract Olivia's excitement and woke up crying.  I could see the storm clouds blowing through her all morning.  One minute weeping, one minute nothing but thunder and lightening.  It was treacherous mothering, I tell you.  She kissed me once, quietly as she left.  A tiny, reluctant rainbow at the end of the storm.

I was exhausted by the time they all left.

The last couple of days have been especially difficult for David at work.  He comes home all chewed up and consumed.  Last night his brow was still sweating when we went to bed. 

And that means, of course, that the last couple of days have been difficult for me as well.  I have to row alone while he stares out at the sea and worries about other things than our swamped little boat.  Sometimes I feel like hitting him over the head with my oar.  When he finally came home last night I was alone in the kitchen because I had sent all the kids to their rooms.  I had had enough.  The storm clouds had gathered.

David asked, "Are you mad at me?"

I said, "I'm mad at all of you."

The lightening was cracking.

When we gathered for prayer we all held hands, but didn't let go of our grudges.  David began.  We bent our heads.  About halfway through his tongue slipped and he said, "Please help us to stop fart..."(then he corrected and said)..."uh, fighting."

When he said "Amen" the room dissolved into laughter.  We lay on the floor and laughed and laughed.  And every time one of us looked at another we laughed again.

And the clouds opened, the rain fell, and washed all the rest of it away.

Rain. 

Sweet mojave rain.

And just in time, too.