After four months of only trace amounts of rain, we’re finally getting wet. And the funny thing is . . . I can’t quite remember what I was so desperate about.

As October rolled into November and then December approached without rain, I longed for the least drop of dampness. Wildfires added to the pervasive feeling that the whole world was going to dry up and blow away–or burn away.

But now it’s raining. Should be more tomorrow and maybe even snow in another week. The sky is precipitating again and all that worry and angst seems like a waste of energy.

There were moments when I wondered what would happen if we never had rain again. How long before the well went dry? Would my beloved mountains become arid and barren? Would meadows turn into deserts? What about the animals?

I know it was overly dramatic, but as the driest spell I could remember stretched on, I began to paint worst case scenarios.

And then the rain fell.

The creeks swelled, washing the abundance of leaves downstream. The grass greened in spite of the cool temperatures. The dust settled. And all that fret and worry began to feel silly.

“O ye of little faith,” said Jesus over and over again. My faith is small, not even the size of a mustard seed. But I’m working on it. And the rain reminds me that God is in control and worrying won’t add a single hour to my life. Matthew 6:25-34