Sometimes rain is miserable,
But after a fire, rain can feel like hope.
The smoke is gone.
The ash is washing away.
Just the sound of the rain.
But nothing,
and no one,
can regrow alone.
For some of us the hardest part is asking for help,
allowing help,
or even recognizing we need help.
But the rain doesn’t fall to wash us away.
It falls to wash us clean and allow new growth.
But we have to allow people to see us.
To see the exhaustion,
The brokenness,
The wreckage,
And trust that they will know us,
Speak to what they see,
And tell us the truth.