I always forget that some people don\\u2019t love the rain.<\\/h3>\\n The daily weather forecast isn\\u2019t announcing rain, it\\u2019s warning people of rain, as if rain were a bad thing. It\\u2019s cautioning people so that they can carry their umbrellas and not plan time outdoors. When it says \\u201c\\u201dninety percent chance of rain,\\u201d they\\u2019re estimating high so that people will be pleased if they\\u2019re wrong. To me, \\u201cninety percent\\u201d is an exhilarating promise. I wait for the rain as the numbers on the forecast go from ninety percent to eighty percent to fifty to twenty, and the clouds blow by without letting down a drop.<\\/p>\\n On Sunday night, it was supposed to rain as the heat dome dissipated, but we barely got a drizzle. I sat on my back porch late in the evening, watching a black cloud roll in over a navy sky, breathless with anticipation, but the cloud passed right over and left me with nothing. No cooling shower. No soft earth. No nourishment for the plants. No petrichor.<\\/p>\\n The next day was less stifling hot, but sunnier.<\\/p>\\n Every late June I can remember has had similar disappointments.<\\/p>\\n Jimmy the Mechanic was running back and forth to grab one piece or another out of Serendipity. At first he thought the problem was the whole engine, but now he\\u2019s sure it\\u2019s the fuel injector. In between other odd jobs he\\u2019d dig part of the engine out, put it in the trunk for safe keeping, and then disappear again. Eventually he got the four fuel injectors and took them back to his house for cleaning and examination. He came back later to say one injector was totally dead, so we ordered a new one. It\\u2019ll be here by Sunday. I couldn\\u2019t drive out to the lake for a swim, so I sulked indoors.<\\/p>\\n Once in awhile I\\u2019d go out to tend the garden. It was so thoroughly soaked the day I went to Robinson<\\/a> that for several days, it didn\\u2019t notice the heat wave and the drought. By mid-week, though, things took a turn for the worse. The soil was dry, gray, and hard as a rock. The bottommost leaves of the tomatoes went yellow. The squash got white spots on the leaves. One of the baby pumpkins dropped off the pumpkin plant, a\\u00a0 sure sign of blossom-end rot. Blossom-end rot is caused by a calcium deficiency. It can mean a lack of minerals in the soil, or it can mean that the plant isn\\u2019t getting enough minerals because it\\u2019s not soaking up enough water.<\\/p>\\n I ran to get the milk. It wouldn\\u2019t fix the drought, but it would provide some minerals before I lost the whole crop.<\\/p>\\n

{"id":23097,"date":"2024-06-29T16:56:56","date_gmt":"2024-06-29T20:56:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/?p=23097"},"modified":"2024-06-29T16:56:56","modified_gmt":"2024-06-29T20:56:56","slug":"and-let-the-clouds-rain","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/2024\/06\/and-let-the-clouds-rain\/","title":{"rendered":"And Let the Clouds Rain"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>

"rain

image via Pixabay<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>\n

I always forget that some people don\u2019t love the rain.<\/h3>\n The daily weather forecast isn\u2019t announcing rain, it\u2019s warning people of rain, as if rain were a bad thing. It\u2019s cautioning people so that they can carry their umbrellas and not plan time outdoors. When it says \u201c\u201dninety percent chance of rain,\u201d they\u2019re estimating high so that people will be pleased if they\u2019re wrong. To me, \u201cninety percent\u201d is an exhilarating promise. I wait for the rain as the numbers on the forecast go from ninety percent to eighty percent to fifty to twenty, and the clouds blow by without letting down a drop.<\/p>\n On Sunday night, it was supposed to rain as the heat dome dissipated, but we barely got a drizzle. I sat on my back porch late in the evening, watching a black cloud roll in over a navy sky, breathless with anticipation, but the cloud passed right over and left me with nothing. No cooling shower. No soft earth. No nourishment for the plants. No petrichor.<\/p>\n The next day was less stifling hot, but sunnier.<\/p>\n Every late June I can remember has had similar disappointments.<\/p>\n Jimmy the Mechanic was running back and forth to grab one piece or another out of Serendipity. At first he thought the problem was the whole engine, but now he\u2019s sure it\u2019s the fuel injector. In between other odd jobs he\u2019d dig part of the engine out, put it in the trunk for safe keeping, and then disappear again. Eventually he got the four fuel injectors and took them back to his house for cleaning and examination. He came back later to say one injector was totally dead, so we ordered a new one. It\u2019ll be here by Sunday. I couldn\u2019t drive out to the lake for a swim, so I sulked indoors.<\/p>\n Once in awhile I\u2019d go out to tend the garden. It was so thoroughly soaked the day I went to Robinson<\/a> that for several days, it didn\u2019t notice the heat wave and the drought. By mid-week, though, things took a turn for the worse. The soil was dry, gray, and hard as a rock. The bottommost leaves of the tomatoes went yellow. The squash got white spots on the leaves. One of the baby pumpkins dropped off the pumpkin plant, a\u00a0 sure sign of blossom-end rot. Blossom-end rot is caused by a calcium deficiency. It can mean a lack of minerals in the soil, or it can mean that the plant isn\u2019t getting enough minerals because it\u2019s not soaking up enough water.<\/p>\n I ran to get the milk. It wouldn\u2019t fix the drought, but it would provide some minerals before I lost the whole crop.<\/p>\n

Rorate, Caeli desuper, et nubes pluant iustum. Rorate Caeli desuper, at nubes pluant iustum. \u00a0<\/em><\/h3>\n \ What does that mean again?\u00a0 \u201cDrop dew, ye Heavens from above, and let the clouds rain the One who is Just?\u201d or \u201cDrop dew, ye Heavens from above, and let the clouds rain justice?\u201d<\/p>\n \ Is \u201cIustum\u201d a just man who\u2019s going to save us? Or is it justice in general; every sinner getting the nasty thing that they deserve?<\/p>\n \ Isn\u2019t that what justice is? A spanking? A jail sentence? The wicked witch getting thrown in a cauldron of poisonous snakes? Rain isn\u2019t justice. Rain is a treat. Rain is mercy. Rain is a treat.<\/p>\n \ Who would dare pray for justice?<\/p>\n \ Rorate, Caeli desuper, et nubes pluant iustum. Be not angry, O Lord, and remember no longer our iniquity: behold, the city of the Holy One is become a desert: Sion is become a desert: Jerusalem is desolate: the house of thy\u00a0 sanctification and of thy glory, where our fathers praised thee. Rorate, Caeli desuper, et nubes pluant iustum.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n \ That sounds like you should be praying for mercy, for God to let you off the hook, and not for justice.<\/p>\n \ I came out with the gallon jug just as the clouds were gathering, days later than I\u2019d longed for. The meteorologist said there was a chance of torrential rain again, but this time I didn\u2019t dare to hope. There is a moment, here in northern Appalachia, in late June or early July, when I start to believe that rain doesn\u2019t exist, and I\u2019d reached that point. Water wasn\u2019t a thing that dropped mercifully from the sky. Water was something to be dragged outside in buckets or taken as a favor from the neighbor\u2019s hose. God created clouds to torment the unworthy and not to drop precious nourishment for free.<\/p>\n \ As I watered the squash with milk, the tormenting clouds shook out a few big heavy drops, and then stopped. A tease. Pure sadism, worse than no rain at all.<\/p>\n \ If there was a God, I felt, he had abandoned the pumpkins to die.<\/p>\n \ I went inside as the wind whipped my messy hair and tugged at my loose summer clothes. All I wanted was to go out hiking at the mineral spring and stick my head under the waterfall again, but the waterfall would be dried up even if I did have a car to get to Pennsylvania. Nothing could live in this drought. We were doomed.<\/p>\n \ Rorate, Caeli desuper, et nubes pluant iustum.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n \ I read and wrote and tended the guinea pig, trying not to look out the window.<\/p>\n \ Every time I peeked outside, I saw a few lazy drops on the sidewalk, and nothing else.<\/p>\n \ Adrienne came down and asked for dinner. I boiled some spaghetti, with no enthusiasm at all. Who can eat when it\u2019s hot and dry out?<\/p>\n \ I glanced at the sky out the kitchen window, and saw it was dark.<\/p>\n \ No, that wasn\u2019t right. It shouldn\u2019t be dark. It wasn\u2019t winter. It doesn\u2019t get dark at six in the afternoon. But again, I didn\u2019t dare look.<\/p>\n \ The wind blew harder, rattling the old windows.<\/p>\n \ I ran to the porch.<\/p>\n

It was pouring.<\/h3>\n \ The sidewalks were slick glass. The grass was bending over. The rain was driving down so hard that I could barely see Serendipity parked in front. There was the glorious smell of rain. There was the cool air I\u2019d missed so much. It went on for an hour or more.<\/p>\n \ I went out to the garden after it stopped, and the packed gray earth was warm brown soil again. Birds were singing. Sunflowers were starting to bloom. Everything was right and just and alive.<\/p>\n \ The Just One, you see, He hadn\u2019t forgotten. To create a thing as wondrous and as frail as a pumpkin, or a flower, or a tomato vine, or a human being, comes with an obligation to have mercy and bring the rain. Mercy is a kind of justice.<\/p>\n \ It\u2019s raining again now.<\/p>\n \ \u00a0<\/p>\n \n \n \n Mary Pezzulo is the author of\u00a0Meditations on the Way of the Cross,\u00a0<\/a>The Sorrows an<\/a>d Joys of Mary<\/a>, and\u00a0Stumbling into Grace: How We Meet God in Tiny Works of Mercy.<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n \n \n \n \n \n \n \n Steel Magnificat operates almost entirely on tips. To tip the author, donate to \u201cThe Little Portion\u201d on\u00a0paypal<\/a>\u00a0or Mary Pezzulo on\u00a0venmo<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u00a0 I always forget that some people don\u2019t love the rain. The daily weather forecast isn\u2019t announcing rain, it\u2019s warning people of rain, as if rain were a bad thing. It\u2019s cautioning people so that they can carry their umbrellas and not plan time outdoors. When it says \u201c\u201dninety percent chance of rain,\u201d they\u2019re estimating […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2694,"featured_media":23100,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[22,1165],"tags":[794,366,360,1986,7684,399],"class_list":["post-23097","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-appalachia","category-gardening","tag-drought","tag-garden","tag-justice","tag-rain","tag-rorate-caeli","tag-summer"],"yoast_head":"\nAnd Let the Clouds Rain<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"I always forget that some people don't love the rain.\u00a0\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/2024\/06\/and-let-the-clouds-rain\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"And Let the Clouds Rain\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"I always forget that some people don't love the rain.\u00a0\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/2024\/06\/and-let-the-clouds-rain\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Steel Magnificat\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2024-06-29T20:56:56+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/664\/2024\/06\/puddle-2584378_640.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"640\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"427\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Mary Pezzulo\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Mary Pezzulo\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"6 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/2024\/06\/and-let-the-clouds-rain\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/2024\/06\/and-let-the-clouds-rain\/\",\"name\":\"And Let the Clouds Rain\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2024-06-29T20:56:56+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2024-06-29T20:56:56+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/#\/schema\/person\/eefd606fd6f98b01cd46b38fcead458b\"},\"description\":\"I always forget that some people don't love the rain.\u00a0\",\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/2024\/06\/and-let-the-clouds-rain\/#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/2024\/06\/and-let-the-clouds-rain\/\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/2024\/06\/and-let-the-clouds-rain\/#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"And Let the Clouds Rain\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/\",\"name\":\"Steel Magnificat\",\"description\":\"Everything is grace\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":\"required name=search_term_string\"}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/#\/schema\/person\/eefd606fd6f98b01cd46b38fcead458b\",\"name\":\"Mary Pezzulo\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/steelmagnificat\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/b65a50a237f24be80481c3e40cdc1c15?s=96&d=identicon&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/b65a50a237f24be80481c3e40cdc1c15?s=96&d=identicon&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Mary Pezzulo\"},\"description\":\"Mary Pezzulo received her BA in English at Otterbein University in Westerville, Ohio. 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