Rain Delay

by grafixworks

ImageWhat is it about a rainy day that makes one pensive, maybe even a little restless? Who knows, maybe this restlessness is rubbing off onto me from my dog.  Poor thing hates the rain. She associates it with lightening and thunder.  I can see it in her eyes, she anxiously anticipates that flash of light and the clap of thunder. Expecting something bad to happen even though it doesn’t. Sounds like some people I know.

I’m starting to think, this restlessness may be more resentfulness. After all, the rain has forced me to stop and rethink my day. I hate that. I had a busy day planned. I wanted to do some yard work, wash those doggy nose prints off my windows, get the floors mopped and do some grocery shopping. Now, all that will have to wait for another day. Knowing there is “work” stacked up, like airplanes at Dulles, would make most grown ups antsy and grumpy.

I want to point out, I wasn’t always like this. I still remember a time when a steady summer rain like today just made me feel safe, sheltered, and at peace. (Despite being “cooped up” with my little brother. Sorry baby bro.) I would sit in my room, or under the protected patio playing dolls or reading and listen to the rain patter on the roof. God I loved/love that sound. As a child, subconsciously I just knew and accepted rain was nature’s way of renewing it’s self. It was a break, a “time out” from the things that needed to get done, like floating rafts down the creek, building huts of field grass, climbing trees, skipping stones, and playing kick the can until you couldn’t see the can any more. I wonder, why I can’t embrace this “break” as an adult?  When did I lose the appreciation of renewal and just looked at it as annoyance?

I recognize, if I want balance in my life I need to rediscover those things I innately knew when I was a child. I need to work on peeling away the decades of stain, varnish, and paint that are layered on and reveal the original wood beneath.  

So, just for today, I’ll embrace this “rain delay” in my life.