Sweet rain!

When I woke up at 3 A.M. this morning hearing the pitter-patter of rain, I was so very relieved to have our latest drought end, and knew I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.  I was that excited!  

At times like these, I am always taken back to Eagleville, Missouri, when our Church of Christ was having a Gospel meeting.  They called it a tent meeting, but I remember being disappointed that it wasn't a real tent; it didn't have a roof, just three walls of canvas.  I was ten years old.  We were in the spell of a severe drought, and since we relied a lot on food from our garden, my mom desperately wanted rain.

Together, my parents had what was really a 24-hour job: They were the ones who helped folks in our area talk to one another on the telephone, the switchboard operators.  Anyone who had a long distance call had to talk to my mom (or sometimes my dad) and she would get them to whomever they needed.  People were considerate, and my parents seldom had to get up in the middle of the night unless it was an emergency... or some drunk guy calling his girlfriend, but that was rare.  Anyhow, my mom would pay some high school girl to sit at the switchboard when we went to church.  But I digress.

At the Gospel meeting we had sung a couple of hymns and had a prayer, hearing distant thunder.  The preacher started preaching, but he didn't get far.  It wasn't long until we all ran for cover, heading home.

We got in the car to drive the four blocks or so to our house.  Mother paid the girl who had been babysitting the switchboard, then she sat down and took over.  I stepped out on the front porch to watch the rain coming down, and I remember hearing my mother sitting at the switchboard, singing this song at the top of her voice:

Ever since then, when we get a much-needed rain, I am reminded of my mother's joy at the sound of rain.  It's one of my favorite memories.

By the way, I went out with the flashlight at 4 A.M. today.  There was over an inch and a half of rain in the gauge.

I've told this story here before, but it makes me happy in the telling of it.  

Just a little piece of my childhood.