It's supposed to rain for the next few days. We let the sun shine long enough to get in some kayaking, weeding, and walking, then we turn off the sunlight and suffice ourselves with thinking about next week. The ground needs rain more than we do.

I say to a friend the other day something I didn't say first at all: It rains on the just and the unjust. I used to think that was just a platitude for scoundrels and saints, a pat on the head to comfort or condone, I don't know. All I know is that it's a rainy season, which is good or bad depending on how how you look at it.

Last night I got home to a notice from the IRS saying my taxes had been filed incorrectly and I owed another several hundred on top of the exorbitant amount I've already graciously given them. I wondered what unjust sort of thing I'd done to deserve it. I mentally catalogued my doing and being and going and came up empty. I think God does that on purpose, just so we don't get too caught up on our merits.

Then one day, while we are tripping over ourselves with sin and snagging every loose thread on character flaws, puddle jumping because the rain is so plenteous, we can remember that rain isn't just a inconvenient interloper: it can be a reward too. Depending on how you look at it. It's not always a cause and effect thing.

So I'm puddle jumping and looking for buttercups because I don't see the point in the downpours of late, but I'm sure it's bigger than my good deeds or bad. It's got to be.

Besides, this dry ground is thirsty.