There's one thing that Bobby and I were utterly unprepared for when we moved to south Texas. No rain. I've lived in Ohio pretty much my whole life, plus West Virginia for a couple years after we got married, and we never had to worry about rain. Everything flourished and was green and lovely pretty much all year round. If anything we got sick of rain and wished it would stop.
Since moving to Texas that has all changed. Granted, we're in the middle of a major drought that is destroying the livelihoods of many farmers and ranchers, so I really don't have much room to complain. But man, I do miss rain. It's rained twice, twice!, since we moved here. Once in June for an hour in the morning and once the other day for ten minutes in the afternoon.
Churches near and far are asking their congregations to pray for rain. When the clouds parted and it rained a few days ago, in my heart I said a prayer that went something like this: "Oh, Heavenly Father, thanks so much for the rain. Oh, thank you, thank you! Please keep it coming!" And when the rain stopped just minutes later, I thought, "Well, it's better than nothing."
I've never imagined living in a place where I would have to pray for rain. I've never imagined loving rain more than I do right now.