a thought; father

today, i heard a sound. today, i saw a sight. today, i felt this feeling. today, i understood this thought.

that sound was the noise of weeping. that sight was the vision of a comforting hand. that feeling was the embrace of the widest love. that thought was from the heart of God.

--

it was a dreary rainy day. it was just one of those days. sitting at the bay window, only grays and drabs could be seen. cars splash through puddles. people march under their umbrellas. one man sadly walks his dog.

after a short while, thunder rings out as if only to reinforce the curtain of dour. there is water collecting on either side of the road and flowing slowly and deathly into the gutter. aside from the drudgery of raindrops the only sounds are of the cars speeding off and splashing the sidewalk. thunder resounds again.

but then a young child appears. she's wearing florid pink boots and a plaid-patterned raincoat. she's smiling. she jumps into puddles. she chases that squirrel to its tree. the rain is a gentle caress. those street-side streams are playthings.

we are not that young child. we merely watch from the window as she plays. we are not actors in this film; we did not purchase tickets to this fair. as much as we wish to jump through the window and fill her pink boots, we cannot.

but then, our father comes. he tells us that we, too, have a pair of small boots. we, too, have a sheltering raincoat. he gives us these things. we rush out the door.

our father stands on the threshold. he watches us diligently, carefully. each puddle we splash, each fallen leaf we examine, he is overjoyed. the articles we wear, that he gave us, keep us dry. as he watches us at play, a smile is on his face. he loves us.