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I sat down one breezy June afternoon to write this post, only I thought I was writing an entirely different post. My screened porch roof covered me, as it began to rain.
The rain made me weep.
And I felt this quiet little nudge. Go, stand in the rain.
Those words made me cry more, because I don’t venture out into the rain much. Ever. Why? Because I’m one of those consequence keepers. Because I think in details, and I think too much and I think too many steps ahead, and I’m hyper aware that x causes y, and I don’t usually enjoy y. So I avoid x.
Know what I mean?
Like I fixed my hair already today, and I don’t like wet hair. It makes me cold. And I don’t like wet clothes. I’ll need to change.
Anyway, who has time to sit and cry at the rain, or to stand in the rain and soak?
Who has time for tears or raindrops?
Despite my objections, I stood on my deck in the rain, and my tears transformed into laughter. I stretched out my hands, looked toward the sky and said, Thank you.
Then this deeply spiritual moment ended, on account of window banging behind me. Because maybe I’m growing little consequence keepers. My daughter yelled, MOM, WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? And then she and little brother joined me in the rain, where my girl screamed, “This is SO not like you!”
It wasn’t like me. She loved it.
The three of us skipped and laughed and the rain poured over us, and after a bit, they climbed down to the playset, where they happily ran and hollered about this fun. Then the rain dried up. The sun came out, and I stood out under its warmth. Thank you.
A minute later, it poured again.
The rain spilled down my cheeks, soaked my blue jeans, moved my heart. It wasn’t just the rain. It was the hand of God. He invited and cleansed and once again lifted me, using drops of rain I’ve avoided thousands of times before. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Suddenly I wanted to run, to pray, to blare music throughout the house. I wanted to sit in the corner and turn it all into words. So I did. And then I wrote more words, and they fell like rain.
I’d been on an Artist’s Date with the Keeper of Raindrops.
And to think, I almost didn’t have the time…