Singing in the Rain

It’s raining again. Our region gets lots of rain. And June is normally a gray month. So, the birds who had been frequenting the yard take to hiding in the Laurel hedge during the storms.

Funny, it rains so often here, we don’t call it a rain storm. Just another shower.

On those rare June days when the skies actually clear, the sun blazes down and you can tuck your sweatshirt away—for the moment.

Some days the finches and nuthatches don’t mind (or get desperate enough to disregard) the rain. They’ll brave the wash in order to swing on the birdfeeder and pinch at the seeds.

But most wet days they fall quiet. Rain makes them fly into the trees and duck under fat leaves for protection. I imagine them shivering in our 50-degree temps and waiting it out. No singing. No chirping. Just hoping.

I get like that. Circumstances are my rain. They pour seemingly down upon me, and I grow silent, watchful, thoughtful. Sometimes fearful. My song dries up as the “rain” pours down.

The other day, though, drippy as it was outside, I heard a bird chirruping away. She (I like to think the bird was a she—go with me here) didn’t care that it was “stormy.” After days of gray and rain, she let loose her song anyway.

That’s how I want to be. Sing anyway. Let loose the worries and trust God in His faithfulness no matter how hard it rains. Here’s to singing in the rain.