After a record 12¾ inches of rainfall in only a few days, I will admit to spending lots of time in the sun yesterday and today. I sat on the back of one of our trucks for a long time and let the sun beat down on my face. Feeling its warmth felt so good, and seeing the blue sky was a treat.

Today, my three-year-old grandson Ethan and I took a walk down our gravel road. He played barefoot in several spots where the gravel had washed away and left hard-packed mud instead.

“How does that mud feel on your feet?” I asked.

“Good,” he said.

That’s from the same boy who, at 18 months old, spent almost two weeks in the burn unit with second- and third-degree burns on his little hands and feet after toddling over red-hot coals from a campfire that had been covered in sand earlier that day at a public beach.

All healed now. A miracle, made possible by living in these days of modern science.

I love the rain, but I love the sun at least as much, if not just a tiny bit more. Rain feels healing. Sun feels energizing. Both are life-giving.

A little grandson, healed, playing, and full of life—now that is pure joy.