I sit in my prayer chair and experience the quiet, intense joy of a cold morning rain. Drops fall steadily against the tree leaves outside my open window. Each drop strikes a leaf with a rhythm all its own, some as light as a newborn’s sleepy coo, others firmly, as a drummer strikes the tightly stretched surface of his instrument. Together they form an intricate song with a thousand different melodies, a riot of nature’s music that somehow blends with perfect precision into a masterful symphony of natural beauty. The sky responds with a distant rumble, as though applauding the rain’s performance.

I sit in the comfort of my living room, the windows thrown open to the music of the rain, my face refreshed by the rain-cooled air. I inhale the fresh scent of water from heaven. Surely the power and beauty of a steady rain is a glimpse of eternity. One day, like a raindrop, I will stand in the great assembly and add my small voice to a glorious song of praise, orchestrated by the only Worthy One.