The Sound of Rain.

I must be insane. It's after midnight and start a blog post. No wonder I have bags under my eyes. It's been such a long time since my last post. About a year. What a year it's been. So many things have happened. Where do I start?

I think I was stuck in a rut for this past year. Not sure what to say. I feel so alive when I write but I wasn't always writing about happy things. I seemed so down and out. Unsure. Melancholy. My posts seemed to portray that as well. Doom and gloom. It's like in that song by Gotye. There's a lyric that says "You can be addicted to a certain kind of sadness". I can relate. I felt at times I could draw myself to be down and think of sad things to write about because it made me feel good. I was addicted. Damn serotonin; or is it dopamine? I can't remember.

So this time I will be uplifting. Happy. Grateful. I have so much to be thankful for. I have been so blessed. I at times still think of me as undeserving. Why have I been blessed? What forces have drawn me to this stage of my life? Of course, I give all the credit and thanks to God. My Father loves me and has proved it with blessings. I still do not know what the future holds but for the moment I am happy.

I sit here in my bedroom. The window is open and I hear a slight rain outside. Crickets chirping. A slight breeze. It's quite in the house. The kids are asleep and the cat is outside. Prowling, er, um, sitting on the ground by the tree in the front yard. He's eighteen years old now. His prowling days are over. All these things remind me that I am home. My own place. My castle. This truly is a little piece of heaven.

Four years ago, almost to the day, I left my home. I remember thinking that as soon as I took one step out of my house, that I was now homeless. I had nowhere to go. My ex and I decided temporarily that I would stay at her studio until I was able to get a place of my own. That was torture. For those who know my ex she is a photographer. She constantly snapped photos of the kids for practice and she framed and had them hanging all over her studio wall. The day I left I walked in the studio and found myself surrounded by pictures of my kids. I was devastated. Heartbroken. On the verge of a breakdown. I had never felt so lost in a dark world. I couldn't feel anything.

Life from that point on was hard. Yes, I was there partly by my own design, but still I was a complete wreck. Years went by. Slowly but surely things seemed to turn around. I had heard a quote and I can't remember now who said it but it goes something like this: "Pray like everything depends on God. Work as if everything depends on you." I decided to put that to the test. I worked like I have never done before. Not so much in labor, per say, but mentally. And after months of what seemed like sheer torture, I was blessed. As it says in the scriptures, "Apollos watered. God gave the increase." And He did for me.

Shortly after closing on my home I got together with my brother and his family. They came by the house one Sunday after church. I invited them there to help me bless my home. (We Mormons like to do stuff like that.) After I said the prayer and the blessing was complete, my Sister in law hugged me and said, "Welcome Home." The two words I had longed to hear in my hard journey back from what I call my darkest days.

So when I have moments like this, when the kids are asleep, and the cat is outside and the crickets are chirping a gentle rain falls, I am reminded of that eighty's commercial where a man and woman are lying in bed at night after a long hard day of moving. Boxes everywhere. Clothes strewn across the floor. And it's raining. The man says, "It's raining." to which the woman replies, "Yes. And it's raining on our roof." Yes it is dear lady. Yes, it is.