Some Things About Rain

I fell asleep Sunday night to the sound of rain, and it was nice.

(The sound later woke up Miles and drove him to his father's side of the bed, waaay too early in the morning, but I'll leave off lamenting about that since it didn't happen to me.)

I was wondering, in the shower Monday morning, why rain at night is a comfort to me while rain during the day is just such a drag. I think it has to do with my most fundamental ordering of the world. Well, at least, my world. Because, here, where I live...

The darkness should know its place!

I've got no problem with gray and dreary when it's ALREADY dark outside. Pitter patter, doesn't matter. But my soul gets jittery every time my expectation of what should logically and naturally follow gets upended. Sun shines every day in my world, and to it is given the better part of each day. That's how it is. Period. This business of hours upon hours lacking any sparkle or shine... well, I must insist upon a return to our regularly scheduled programming.

Now here's where things get interesting. Because I'm pretty sure God spoke to me as I was facing off with my worldview, in the shower, on Monday morning. While the neighborhood was still wringing wet and with my own head half lathered, I think God gave me to understand that a little less must-have-my-physical-needs-met-every-day is going to be necessary in the life He has designed for me. A higher level of resilience will, perhaps, serve me better.

It's not that I'm wrong to crave the sun and decry the rain (the actual or the symbolic, I mean). It's that I would likely ease my own load if I could accept the gray drizzle that so often arrives in my everyday. If I could stop believing I always need the opposite of it, then perhaps I could let the gray stand as a weather condition, but not a soul condition.

'Cause here we are, friends -- smack dab in the middle of a long, gray day-in-the-life that I have proven I myself cannot control. I want to have more children. And I don't. I just don't. We've tried. We'll keep trying. But I've lost precious and sacred things in the process; my heart is wounded and time passes and it all still sucks pretty badly. Cue the lightning. Roll the thunder.

...Now what?

Instead of fighting the suckiness of this situation all the time -- like I must actively resist feeling sorry for myself -- why have I not thought to let it be? Just let it be what it is, then pick up and proceed, in sunshine and light, toward the things God wants me to do. OK... easier said than done, sure... But maybe, if I stop feeling like I'm fighting all the time, I can stop feeling like I'm losing the fight.

And now we're back to God. I've known for months that His soul tonic for me would also be a tough pill to swallow. (It's no coincidence I picked this metaphor. I hate non-chewable things; I choke on vitamins.) I guess maybe I was afraid for a while. Leery, or rebellious. Or something. But I need to stop fighting this hurt now. I need to let it be. His voice says it in a softer and gentler tone than I could ever summon. "Just live," God tells me. "Just live the way I made you to be." For the record, I live in light -- in all circumstances, through every trial, over and above any pressing cloud, I live in light.

"My grace is sufficient for you," He told Paul in 2 Corinthians 12. (Like I'm going to be proud, or stupid, enough to lay claim to something more or different?!) "I have learned the secret of being content..." Paul answered back in Phillipians 4.

"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength." So go verses 12 and 13. And, then, like a ray straight from my own personal sun comes verse 14. "Yet it was good of you to share in my troubles."

Yes, yes, it was. It was good of all of you. Thanks for thinking of me while I work these things out for myself. For being here, and for "listening." You shine the light.