I am watching rain fall.
It’s not a gentle rain, yet it’s not quite a downpour either. It’s a steady rain- beads of water dropping to the ground in a steady, saturating sort of way. All is wet. Even the ground beneath trees where the protection of the leaves usually creates a few small damp, yet dry spots is wet.
It’s the kind of rain where people pause before exiting the coffee shop they were just frequenting. The pause to consider the shortest path to their car, to briefly deliberate upon how much water will fall upon them, to tuck belongings underneath arms and jackets, and to inhale and prepare the skin to receive the first wash of rainfall. It’s the run to the car kind of rain- the dash to avoid the drops from the sky, somehow every step splashing into the puddles the drops from the sky have formed.
I am watching rain fall and I am watching people do their best to dodge it.
The irony is that they can’t.
Why are we so distrustful of rain? Why are we are so reluctant to embrace the raindrops?
Is it because we don’t like being wet? We don’t like to appear disheveled, messy, unkempt? Is it just about our appearance?
Children embrace rain. Puddles and raindrops exhilarate them. They love the remnants of rainfall- squishy grass, dirt turned to mud, water gushing through ditches, earthworms appearing above ground.
And adults reject it. We tend to think rain ruins plans. We’re terrified of a downpour on our perfectly planned outdoor wedding. We pray against the clouds appearing, that might make watching the game more cold, more windy, that might cause mud to cake our shoes, that might create more cleanup of our kids.
It’s about mess, isn’t it? It’s always about mess.
It’s about the feelings mess brings.
It’s about vulnerability. It’s about rawness.
I am watching rain fall and I am reminded again of the wild beauty of embracing vulnerability and rawness.
I want to be a woman of vulnerability and rawness. I want to be a woman who boldly stands embracing where I am now, all the while proclaiming the grace of the Lord over every area of my life. I want to be a woman who unashamedly bares her questions, her fears, her emotions, and her brokenness that the world around her would see the healing work of God in her.
I want to be a woman who may appear disheveled, messy, unkempt, but whose roots go down deep because I have soaked up every drop of rain that has fallen upon me.
And so, right now, I’m going to get up, walk outside to stand and embrace the rain. A physical representation of the spiritual posture I long to embody.