The view from the lily pad
The past couple of days the sky has opened up and dumped a couple oceans’ worth of water on us. This means the mosquitoes are having sexy times tonight, and within days we’ll be swatting at their progeny. But at least we didn’t get washed off the map like Pensacola, where people are navigating the streets in canoes. There’s gonna be a heck of a mess to clean up over there. They didn’t just get inches of rain…they got feet.
Rainy days work for me. I know not everyone loves them, but sometimes I need them. And the past couple of days, I’ve needed them. I’ve felt the clash of how I believe I’m supposed to think and feel, and how I really think and feel. I’ve felt the weight of loneliness in areas where my attempts to encourage myself fall flat. I’ve felt the bruises that come from being a square peg trying to jam into a round hole.
A little rain has been good for the soul, washing things I can’t otherwise reach.
Tonight the little creek that runs behind my house is full of happy little bugs and froggies. I know this because they are singing and chirping and making a holy racket. They love the rain too, though I don’t think they ever bother to consider how they think or feel, or if they are lonely or discouraged. They just go on with their little bug and frog lives– eating, sleeping, pooping, avoiding being eaten by birds, and making more bugs and frogs. Sometimes I envy that about them, if only for a few moments.
I wonder if this is part of what it means to feel the weight of glory? It would be easier to be a bug or a frog. It can be a heavy thing to be fully alive and aware that one is created in a sacred Image and given a sacred purpose and calling, only to realize that it’s not so easy to figure out how one lives that out in the context of daily life. There is a responsibility that comes with knowing.
I think I could use a little more rain, please.