In the sticky, overwhelming heat of summer, a unexpected rain storm can be a most welcome sight. I think back on those who lived during the Dust Bowl and wonder how fervent their prayers became, how frequent their children’s rain dances were, and how indescribably giddy they may have been with the fall of the first few swollen drops of rain onto the parched, dead earth.
This morning I was awoken from my sleep by the slow, gentle “ping ping ping” of raindrops hitting the metal air vent on the roof above my bedroom. The slow, gentle rain soon became a downpour and then a deluge with lightning and thunder, somewhat frightening, but still somehow reassuring. I smiled with my eyes closed, thinking about the symbolism that rain holds for me. In my faith, water is a symbol of cleansing and rebirth and a promise that will never be broken. The rains of life have washed over me at various times, reviving me after many painful experiences and during my journey to recovery from Binge-Eating Disorder. In fact, I think the knowledge that rain (and the rebirth that it subsequently brings) is always a possibility sustains me when life feels particularly hard.
How do you look at the rainy days of life? Do you endure them with gritted teeth or do you embrace them, knowing that rebirth and new life wait just moments after they’re finished? This morning, I’m thankful for my rainstorms and for all those who helped me learn to dance in them.
Peace, joy, and health.