I was thinking recently about a time a few years back when I was dealing with a lot of chaos, both at work and at home. On this particular December day I was convinced a quiet walk in the woods was the right choice. The mist was just enough to use the wipers as I drove to the park. If nature is my church, then rain is my baptism, and I needed to rededicate myself to that which I hold dear.
I’m not sure when walking, playing, singing, or dancing in the rain fell off my list of “things I like to do”, and I’m not sure that December is the best time to rediscover my love for it. Still, there was something urgent and necessary that drew me to this place, at this time. No surprise to anyone, I was alone. I rolled up the legs of my jeans, slid my bare feet from the rubber boots I was wearing and stepped ankle-deep into the gurgling spring.
In that moment, as if scripted, the mist turned into a light rain and I turned my face up to accept what was coming. Rain and tears are both magical, and this was a magical moment. I think it was Longfellow who said: “The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.”
Let it rain, and never forget that I love you.