It’s raining today. AGAIN.
The challenge is to remember that there’s a beautiful bright sun up there somewhere even when you can’t see it.
I had a favorite umbrella when I was a kid that sported spokes covered by dull grey cloth on the outside but underneath, where only the holder could appreciate it, the umbrella was lined with cheerful blue fabric dotted with fluffy clouds. The lesson wasn’t lost on me.
Mike and I were talking with our new friends Pete and Pam at church the other night about our mutual love for the city of Istanbul. When we visited on sabbatical last June, we experienced a veritable monsoon. On the one free day we had to wander the city and visit the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Market, the skies opened up and water came down at a rate that left us gasping in admiration. This, after all, was the land of Noah. Turkey knows how to do rain!
Mike and I shared one miserable excuse for an umbrella between us and soon tossed the thing. We tried to dodge the drops at first, zigging one direction and then zagging another, but as the water rose around our ankles we rather started to enjoy the fancy footwork. It’s hard to sing in the rain when the noise of city traffic is amplified by a deluge, but dancing in the rain is something anyone can do.
Our daughter Amber lives in Tacoma, Washington, a city gifted with a LOT of wet weather. Sodden skies make me morose, but Amber has been blessed with her father’s perpetually sunny personality. For my birthday last year, Amber sent me a wonderful framed print depicting a group of people huddled under their umbrellas in a downpour. One woman sporting a yellow slicker, though, has her feet in a puddle but her face upturned to the skies, and the look on her face is pure bliss.
That’s the woman I want to be. Not part of the huddled masses yearning to stay safe and dry, but the one with my face tilted towards heaven.
Smilin’ in the rain.