A chance of rain

I knew it was going to rain. I looked up the weather before I headed out, and there was a 94% chance of rain at 7:00. That was precisely the hour I planned to walk home.

“It’s going to rain,” I told my husband, Peter.

“Not till later,” he said. “Google says it’s not going to rain until 9:00.”

“Hmmm.”

I wondered if I should bring an umbrella. The sun was shining. It was hot. I had a mile and a half to walk, and I was not really looking forward to carrying an umbrella. Maybe a hat, I thought. Maybe a wide-brimmed sun hat would do the trick.

I reached up into the coat closet and selected a brilliant blue sun hat I’d forgotten all about. It was given to me by my now deceased sister-in-law Shelley, who had exquisite taste. Perfect.

I headed out. There was not a cloud in sight. I was going to a church which holds a meditation once a week. While I find it hard to maintain concentration for a full hour on my own, something about being in a darkened room with stone walls and candles burning and a few other folks in prayer and meditation keeps me focused. So I sat down in my usual place. It was very peaceful. I was glad I came.

I need to do these things, I’ve discovered. I’ve always battled with a bit of anxiety, long before I had a name for it. Sometimes it’s just like the sound of the refrigerator running – so constant and persistent that I don’t notice it until it shuts off. “Oh. I’ve been anxious,” I’ll realize. Now I look for ways to give my refrigerator brain a break, and meditation is one of the better ones.

The hour passed. I opened my eyes. Even though the chapel is lit only by candles and the windows are stained glass, it still seemed darker than it should be. Then I heard a crash of thunder. I looked at my watch. 7:00 exactly.

I walked to the door. There was a curtain of rain falling. It was not a squall or an outburst. This was a steady downpour, without a sign of weakness in any direction.

“Hmmm.”

I could have called Peter. He would have scooped me up in the car. I could have called an Uber if I was really feeling flush. I might even have waited near the door and asked a fellow meditator if they were driving in my direction.

Instead, I stepped out into the rain.

My first thought was how heavy and cold it was. But that really only lasted for a minute because, within a minute, I was as wet as a person could be, except for the top of my head and the part of my face shielded by the blue hat. I started walking quickly, but that accomplished nothing. I had a mile and a half to go.

I realized the rain was not that cold, once I was entirely wet. And I realized that I had two choices: fight the rain and lose, or decide to love the rain, and – without giving it a lot of thought – I chose the latter.

And I was filled with unreasonable joy.

I laughed, and I sang, and I splashed in puddles as I made my way home. Stepping into my cool house at last, I took off my hat and discovered my hair had turned blue. I laughed again.

And I wondered why it had been so long since I’d walked in the rain.

Till next time,

Carrie