I'm listening to Grover Washington's fantastic saxophone and wonderful harmonics at this moment. He's playing a great song titled "Can You Stop the Rain?" and oh, oh, oh, oh...it's smooth. It's so deep, and so sultry. I want to stop typing, turn out the lights and just move to it. I don't care if the neighbors watch me from their windows. I don't care if my shadow exposes my true feelings of hurt and mourning right now. I can't stop the rain. It's simple as that. I am not in any position whatsoever to do a damn thing about what it is that my soul feels too closely to. It is what it is, and my spirit aches within my being for someone who I don't even know, but I do know that he's not in a good place - - he's standing in the rain, he's going through the storm and I am not able to do more than pray. So I pray.
God has never allowed me to understand why it is that I feel. I have a thing inside of me that I don't even know if it has a name, it could be something connected directly to my time in Heaven before I was born. It could be that the boy in the rainbow that I once played with is crying and I can't be with him. I can't reach him. I can't put my arms around him to pray with him, so I do what I can do, and that's sway silently in my darkened quiet space and I pray. I lift my friend to Jesus and I ask that He, Jesus, cause the rain to fall quietly, more evenly, and with the grace and gentility that will nourish and not harm. I can do that.
Somewhere. Somewhere in that out there, there is a man who I know but I have never met. I feel him, but I have never felt him. I see him, but my eyes have never found his face. I know he is who I am to hold in silence and my words, through my thoughts, as I repeatedly ask Christ to search my heart, and to request of His Father, the peace that passes all understanding for this friend of mine. I am in a place where I am at peace. I am in a safe, secure and wonderful existence right now, but my friend is not. He is hurting, and though I would fly to the end of the world to hold him and rock him gently as he experiences what he is inadvertently going through -- I can not. I can't do that. I can't help him. I can't stop the rain.
Without being too transparent I will say that I am hurting from within. I smell something, something as small or insignificant as the bread I just made for dinner and I think to myself, "I wonder if he's had anything good to eat today." What right to do I have to do that? What right do I have to even think it, let alone wonder and ask myself. He is not mine. I know this. I can't stop the rain from falling on him, and I can't stop the rain from pouring its ever flowing waters into my heart reminding me that I didn't choose this path, or this mission. This mission was given to me. I accepted it, and I suppose for that I am now very aware of what it entails. I hurt. I hurt for someone else, not myself. I hurt and I can't fix it, but I know from whence comes the rain - - I know who to ask.
Rest friend. If you are able to, please try. Know I would be there if I could. I would visit, I would stay. I would return. I would never stop unless I was asked to stop. I suppose being here, so very far away and out of the way could actually be best -- reality can be a good thing, but so very limiting at times. I know what I know, and I can't know more at this time, but I keep my faith close and my God closer. I lift you and I petition God directly for you. I can't stop the pain -- and I can't stop the rain, but I know you'll be protected by the rain maker; that's a promise He made us both.
Be blessed Tex.
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