Faith

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It’s raining. I’ve been inside for most of the day and I need some fresh air. My two-year old is also restless. It is time to get my older daughter from the bus-stop, so I decide we should walk, rather than drive. Jessie is delighted. I dress her in warm clothes, for a light rain is still falling. I put on my boots instead of walking shoes, for the dirt road will be muddy. I strap Jessie into the back-pack carrier and off we go.

Heading up my driveway I see the impact the long-awaited rain has had. The trees have been washed clean of the layer of dust that had coated them. The blue-green leaves of the gums are glossy and beautiful; their surface looks like a freshly painted watercolour. I breathe deeply as I make my way up the hill, and feel alive with the fresh scent of eucalyptus filling my airways.

The rain reveals tiny spider webs adorned on small bushes. Minute water droplets form a misty veil that glows in each web.

Red-neck wallabies dart away from the roadside as I reach the top of the driveway. In this subdued light of the cloudy day, the usually nocturnal animals venture out to graze. On their grey bodies they wear a reddish cape of fur on their necks and shoulders.

Even the normally bleak dark bitumen strip on the sharp corner near my place has changed its appearance. With a fresh cleansing, the tiny gravel pebbles embedded in the bitumen shine with a gemlike lustre. Dark purple-grey, warm peach, rich chocolate brown, copper-orange and silver stones form a mosaic at my feet.

Nearing the end of the corner I surprise a Pretty-face wallaby and it bounds down the hillside. It’s mid-grey and frosty grey markings are stunning. These large wallabies are more athletic in form than the dumpy Red-necks. A distinctive light grey, almost silver ruff accentuates their sinewy hind legs as they effortlessly leap up mountainous terrain.

Now I am out in the more level countryside, and the surroundings open up as I pass cattle grazing in paddocks. I am delighted to see small leafed trees such as casuarinas and wattle wearing rain-drops at the end of each feathery leaf. As I look toward them with the diffuse light behind the plants, each droplet shines, a delicate orb of reflective beauty. The trees are decorated and alight with God’s liquid blessing.

Coffee- and cream-coloured rocks jut up through the sandy surface of the road. Water rivulets have formed and are channelling the slight layer of dust from the track. Even the bumpy corrugated section has transformed into a work of art. Each deep rut now holds an oval puddle of rainwater, a series of pools that speaks elegance in its simplicity.

I arrive at the bus-stop and the mist is still falling on my head. The view through my glasses is becoming blurry, and my boots are muddy. I don’t mind.

It is raining, and I think I have seen God.

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