from the book embracing now: pain, joy, healing, living
dear rain, i am sorry. remembering days of smiling with you, running as you soaked me, enjoying your sound. but i changed. long ago, i changed. i no longer enjoy you. this morning, while dreading a long drive during your dropping-down-upon-me agenda, i realized i’ve changed. i do not like you. my thoughts about you dwell on the negative experiences. when you brought hurt, when results were unpleasant, when houses were damaged, when lives ended. because of those memories, i’ve deleted the days we smiled together. today, i want to bring back a balanced view of you. like life, like all of it, like jobs and relationships and seasons, each companion offers pleasure and pain. laughter and tears arrive with love. birth and death both exist. as do you. you come quickly, dripping when predicted or unexpected. can i love you again? the nourishments you offer, the necessities you provide, the shifts you send: can i nod and grin rather than wishing you would go away? can i, with you and with people and with life, refuse to let storms turn me away from precipitation needed? what must i do? decide? just decide? realize my feelings but not let them control my thoughts for too long? oh, rain, drop here. fall here today. and after so many seasons, see me waiting for you and smiling.
