She stared at the sky. It opened up. It had never rained like this before. Great torrents of healing water fell from the sky.
It consumed the darkness and spread the light. It pursued fear and overcame it quickly. It flowed, like a river, a mighty Niagara, cutting stone, destroying but shaping, conquering but freeing, choosing this way or that. For a reason. In this direction. This is the way. And then that. This and then that.
It is transformative rain from the river of life.
The season is here.
"If Winter should say she holds Spring in her heart,
who would believe Winter?"
You did not believe it, but it is here.
Spring has come.
Isn't it beautiful?