The here and now in the raindrops

And so, even today when the last attempt to prolong the mild Autumn finally fails and the heart is driven inside, I glanced across the dreary damp scene as I rode past. Nothing more empty than a wind- and rain-swept car park: unpeopled and denatured. And it connected with past emptiness and past nothingness. But stealing sideways glances, I caught a row of waterdrops, hanging from metal - a sideways, waterdrop view of the world - and thought that yes, this is reality too, this is now and nowhere else, this is not even the past I think I am connecting with. And that, amazingly and counter-intuitively, God is in this too, hanging there in the raindrops. I didn't smile and I wasn't happy, but I was really there and determined to be there, as I am determined to be here, listening to the winter raining in and knowing that I am more connected to you and all that I love in being connected to now and here, even when my past tells me it feels like absence.