It was one of those mornings- the boys and I were jammy lounging after a restful weekend. Outside, the sky grey and tree branches waving.
Let’s go, I clap my hands. Let’s get some fresh air and go for a walk. Snuggled into the BOB seats, Star Wars blanket bunched over their legs, snacks in hand, my shoes hit the sidewalk and I push the stroller. We were on a brisk-walking mission!
Crossing over the wash, Ty sticks his head out, nodding at the ducks playing in the water below.
Hey! Hey Donald, he yells. You still have my binky? He pops his curly head back in, wearing a satisfied grin on his dimpled cheeks.
I lost it! Like on-the-ground-laughing-and-grabbing-my-side-giggles. This kid! Of course he remembers giving “Donald Duck” his binky earlier this month. Remember this post? And now he’s questioning the poor bird. Oh Ty!
We near the corner and the rain drops start. Drop. Drop. Drop. Small ones, scattering on the ground, hitting the tops of my shoulders. Minutes later, sheets fall, sidewalks gather puddles, windshield wipers dance as cars pass. There’s something about being outside in the rain that makes me feel alive. And then there’s powering-through-the-streets without a care, God tears wetting my up-turned face, hair soaked, sweating-in-the-cold alive. It’s as if I get to experience Jesus weeping firsthand, buckets of joyful drops falling from heaven. And I soak it up.
Little hands peek out from the stroller creating palm ponds. Shrieks of laughter erupt from brothers. We’re wet mom, our feet our wet, our blanket is wet. But they don’t care. They love peering up at the sky watching trees shake. The ground spits fountains from her mouth, raindrops plopping down! then back up!
I understand why we stay inside when it rains. I know we typically choose comfort and dry, over disheveled and sopping. I realize we can’t all go running around in the cold, our clothes drenched, our cheeks rosy chilled, but I sure do want to show our boys to live this way. I want them, at any age, to look up from their homework, their games, their books at the pitter-patter sound on the roof and run outside to play in the rain. I want them to kick up leaves and raise their face to the heavens and feel alive. I so want them to remember our rain walks and realize life is too short not to play in puddles.
On this day it rained literally and figuratively.
Drop drop drop.
Skies clear and a burning light shines through.
Hours later a different type of downpour. Sickness opens the door and walks into our home. The dreaded flu! No! Go away! But he stays- striking our oldest first, then Bryan and I. I was putting last-minute notes on a MOPS talk I was delivering the next morning. I’d been praying for the women, the faces, the hearts I’d get to share with. But I knew there was no way I was going to make it.
Drop. Drop. Drop.
Why? Why now? Why after time spent preparing and praying? Why on a week when friends are moving and I want to help her pack and watch her kids? Why the rain? Why now?
It’s walking in the rain. It’s heading outside, into grey skies and looming clouds and risking anyway. It’s embracing soaked sweatshirts and shoes kicking up puddles. It’s accepting sickness and turning it inside-out towards gratitude for how seldom the flu makes a stop-over. It’s realizing God always shows up- with or without me. It’s laying on the couch, our home temporarily taken over by young brothers while their parents survive the storm. It’s walking in the rain, it’s feeling alive in the aches and queasiness.
Wherever you find raindrops falling where you wish sunshine were instead, can I encourage you to just go with it?! Don’t fight it- embrace detours and unexpected circumstances. Let the drop. drop. drops help you feel alive.
Maybe you have a sick child at home. Maybe you’re sick of your job right now. Perhaps you feel down and don’t know why… imagine I’m wrapping my rain-soaked arm around you as I meet your gaze.
Go walkin’ in the rain, I say. Go walk in the rain!
Feel alive. Get wet. Let God transform storms into blessings.
And don’t forget to jump in the puddles!
Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet. – Roger Miller