The Wealth of Water and the Peace It Brings
There’s something magical about the rain.
Not the wild, thrashing kind and not the light drizzling kind either— though even those have their place—but the soaking, steady kind. The kind that gushes and taps against the windows and soaks into the earth with purpose. The kind that comes unannounced, unbothered, and unhurried. And just as unhurried to leave. The kind that brings with it an almost sacred stillness.
When it rains, I feel wealthy. Not in the way numbers show up on a screen, but in the way life shows up all around me. The pool fills, the well replenishes, the thirsty grass and flower trees drink deeply and bloom brighter. The world around me turns a richer shade of green, and everything looks quite a bit happier—healthier, even. As if the earth itself just exhaled.
And I do, too.
There’s a quiet that falls with the rain. A soft permission to retreat. To pull back, just a little, from the noise of striving and producing and showing up. The rain whispers, You’ve done enough for now. Just be. And so I do.
It might as well be raining money. That’s how abundant it feels.
It’s not just water falling from the sky—it’s provision. It’s peace. It’s beauty. It’s a reminder that life flows, and that what we need often shows up without force, without fanfare, and sometimes without us even asking. Just(y) in time. Just enough.
Rain makes the world lush, and it makes my spirit full. I love it for that.
So, let it rain.
