thoughts on rain

I'm sitting at my dining room table, wearing my favorite pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and drinking a mug of chicken noodle soup. Shawn McDonald is playing in the background, and through the triple sliding glass doors I am witness to a green world that has been drenched in grey. Beautiful.

Many people have questioned my sanity when I divulge my love for rain. To them it's dreary, depressing. They think they have to stay indoors. They prefer the happy, exuberant rays of sun on cloudless days. Don't get me wrong: I don't not like the sunny-with-a-high-of-75 days. They're freeing. They give the spirit a chance to fly, dance, sing, and soak in warmth. They possess a certain care-free beauty that certainly isn't captured by rain.

But days like this have a way of enveloping you. To me, they speak of peace. Calm. A great thick blanket of cloud dampens and subdues the world beneath it, and it gives my spirit permission to settle. It's cleansing. Rain has a slower, more relaxed attitude than sunshine does; he's one of those extraordinary people who listen fully and are able say what needs to be said by just standing there next to you, or by asking the right question.

This afternoon I set out to do a quick cross-training workout, and what was supposed to be a 30-minute interval run turned into a two-hour run/walk/hike through the trails. It's exactly what I needed: standing in the middle of the forest, mud spattered all up my legs and water dripping off the rim of my hat, just watching and listening to the rain. Beautiful. Thanks, Jesus.