I wish it was raining.

Where I live, rain feels like one of the greatest blessings we can receive. We spend long stretches in dry seasons with relentless wind that leaves us vulnerable to fires.

This week, so many fires broke out — burning land, homes, structures, and forever changing people’s lives.

But one thing always remains true when tragedy strikes here: our community shows up for one another.

People gather. They help. They feed each other. They grieve together. They rebuild together.

And eventually, after the season of loss passes, things begin to grow back even more beautifully than before.

The rain always comes eventually.

I think that’s why I resonate so deeply with storms and seasons. When I look back on the lowest points of my life, I remember the people who stood beside me when everything had burned down.

They sat with me in the ashes of my life and patiently waited with me for the rain to come.

And when it finally did, it poured.

Love poured in. Peace poured in. Stability poured in. Joy poured in.

Everything grew back tenfold.

Now, even in ordinary moments, I find myself recognizing the blessings surrounding me every single day