Written By Ken Hulsey
This weekend brought some wonderful fall showers to Central Louisiana, along with much-welcomed cooler temperatures. For the first time in a long while, I was able to enjoy some quality time outside. I’m a sentimental person who loves rain; I enjoy watching it fall, and when it’s not thundering, I like to take long walks in the rain. There’s something magical about experiencing the soothing calmness of a gentle or steady rain shower. The sounds change, the air feels different, and the overall vibe transforms. Rain also provides an opportunity for solitude—a chance to think, reflect, and connect with God.
Yesterday, as I sat on my modest apartment patio with my plants, I was reminded of a similar experience I had as a ten-year-old child. I thought back to my youthful days in the north-central Texas town of Vernon. Back in the 70s, Vernon was a small farming town with a population of about 11,000. I truly enjoyed spending my formative years in such a community. It was where I discovered many of my passions and formed my moral compass and faith in God. It was also where I developed my love for rain.
On one memorable afternoon, I decided to raise the garage door and sit on the back of my mom's Ford Maverick to watch it rain. I can’t recall what prompted me to do this; perhaps I was bored or starting to recognize my sentimental tendencies. Normally, moments like this were filled with whatever my wild imagination could conjure. I often pretended to be a rock star strumming an imaginary guitar (sometimes using a board or a tennis racket), a member of the Enterprise crew on a mission on a strange planet, or simply throwing rocks at my friend Todd. However, just being still and watching the rain wasn’t typical for me.
I remember trying to compose some catchy song in my head with a chorus that went something like, "A Rainy Day in May." If I hadn’t been ten years old and lacked any musical talent, that could have been a hit. I might have also spent that time contemplating the keys to world peace or how cars could run on water instead of gasoline—I was quite the intellectual back then.
Now, sitting on my porch in Alexandria, I wanted to focus my thoughts on a ministry I started a few months ago called Miracle Mindset. I’ve been wrestling with ideas about how to launch it, its focus, and its ultimate mission. Throughout this process, I keep thinking about my home state of California. My son-in-law, Steven Roberts, who is the children's pastor at our church, recently referred to California as godless and a front-line ministry. That statement has stuck with me, and he wasn’t entirely wrong. Many people there don’t know God and, truthfully, don’t think they need Him in their lives. It’s no wonder there’s so much emptiness and confusion—so many people are searching and trying to fill the void in their lives with misguided activism and anger.
I feel compelled to do something, but I honestly don’t know how best to approach it. I’ve been tagging my Miracle Mindset posts on Facebook with #losangeles and #orangecounty in hopes that someone out west might see and engage with my devotions. I can’t tell if that strategy is effective; however, the posts have received decent numbers, so I take solace in the fact that someone is reading them and, I pray, learning about faith and a relationship with Jesus. That is the ultimate goal, after all.
So, on this rainy morning, I decided to do some soul-searching and have a conversation with God about what I would be writing in the weeks and months to come. The outcome? God can do miraculous things. What I thought would be a brief post has turned into a rather extensive reflection, and I give all the credit to God, as I had no idea what to write this morning. I prayed for the words, and here they are.
I want to leave you with this thought: find a place of solitude where you can think things through and pray, whether it’s a quiet walk in the rain, a peaceful park, or a special room in your house. We all need that time to clear our heads and have one-on-one time with God. These moments are truly special, and I know they will enrich your life greatly. Lastly, I borrowed the title for this article from a poem entitled "Rainy Day Reflections," but unfortunately, I couldn’t find the author’s name.
Raindrops tap on old windowpanes,
While thoughts drift soft like misty rains.
A stillness hangs inside the air,
Inviting memories everywhere.
No rush, no noise, just calm connections,
Life slowed down in rainy day reflections.
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