Touch

It wasn't the last rain to fall, but the first of Autumn.

It was dry enough to stop the grass from growing and then the rain came. It was remarkable. Not that I have never seen rain before, I remember what we've come to call the "Flood of '72" here in northeast Pennsylvania.

So, I've seen more than my share of rain.

Most of you might not think of rain as remarkable. It's just water.

It's not even the water I refer to here, but a moment.

I saw a single drop of rain touch a blade of grass. It bent low at first responding to the weight of this tiny, clear globe of pure liquid hydrogen and oxygen. It looked lifeless and unresponsive, yet, after bowing briefly, it sprung back in place.

As minuscule as a single drop of rain may seem to you, to parched and dry vegetation it is like Adam's ale, the only drink available to Adam - the first man

Standing tall now, the single blade held little of the water's original impact. Still, there was something different about it.

I believe there was a glow, perhaps a reflection of the light of day in the remaining moisture clinging precariously to the brownish/green surface.

Yes, it would be easy to lament over the life giving value of rain to this plant. Like donating blood saves lives.

What I mean to have you respond to is the very second when the rain drop and blade of grass connected.

It screamed to me. It literally lit up my mind and heightened my senses to a point that sent me running into my yard, arms wide open and facing skyward.

Touch. The physical contact of two. One in need, the other fulfilling a need. Both benefiting from the very moment.

"Touch me!" I whispered softly and the rain responded. First caressing my face and hair like two lovers embraced. Then slowly at first, running down my chin through my beard and onto my neck, soon soaking my t-shirt.

After a few moments I was drenched. Not in rain but touch.

We have ruined the art of touch and sent it fleeing into the realm of unspeakable, unwelcome advances. We have boxed ourselves in and set barriers, barricades and call them "personal space."

Think, if you can, about the last time you touched or were touched by, another human being. A pat on the back, an unexpected brush against ones hand or a simple hand shake.

I would guess that there was a glow, perhaps a reflection of the light of God's love for us and afterwards the feeling remained for a time.

Touch. We were not meant to pass each other by without acknowledgment, without notice. We were not created to avoid contact for fear of misunderstood intentions.

Touch is not seduction. It is, at the right moment, acceptance, better yet, validation of another's existence. Touch brings full circle our commandment to love one another.

The rain began, the blade of grass "whispered touch" me, and having done so, the rain brought life back into the very thing it touched.

The blade of grass and I were one.

"I wish you enough!"
J
~ Bob Perks ~

Good news - Bob Perks' first book, "I Wish You Enough," Embracing Life's Most Valuable Moments... is now available for ordering. Here's the "Link" to get your copy of Bob's book: I Wish You Enough from Amazon.com.

[ by: Bob Perks Copyright © 2009 (2believe@comcast.net) -- {used with permission} ]