Dancing in the Rain

If I had a blog, today I would write about the coming of the rain.

A Perfect Morning

A Perfect Morning

It has been a dry summer here on The Greenwood. Since the first of June, we’ve only had a quarter-inch of rain and its absence has left our green-world crisp and brown. Since then, I’ve tried every rain-dance, rain-prayer, and rain-spell in the book, but nothing has worked. The weather, it seems, is a force beyond my control.

Summer Evening

Summer Evening

Last night, with a forecast that promised rain, I was tempted to beg, plead, dance, cry, and threaten any deities who would listen, but then I stopped. I had been down this path so many times before and my cosmic temper-tantrums never worked. Maybe it was time to try something new; something radical. Maybe it was time to trust the wisdom of The Universe over that of my fragile human mind.

When I said my prayers, I skipped my traditional “begging-prayer,” and instead, said an “I trust you” prayer. As much as I wanted rain, I would trust that The Universe knew better than I and would provide what the Earth needed instead. I went to sleep with a lighter heart, though I was unsure what the morning would bring.

Mist on Hawk Ridge

Mist on Hawk Ridge

At 2AM I was was awakened by the sweetest sound imaginable: The sound of thunder rolling down the valley, followed by the sound of pouring rain. At last, the time had come.

We had half-an-inch of rain in the night and it continues to fall as “a gentle hickory” this morning. There is mist on Hawk Ridge, the air is pungent with the smell of damp earth, and none of it is thanks to me.

Although it goes against my nature to surrender control (or the illusion thereof), I find there is relief in the knowledge that I am not allowed to control everything. It is a lesson I am sure I will have to repeat, but for now I will rejoice in my epiphany: The realization that, hard as I may try, I cannot see all ends. As the raindrops splash on my face and run rivulets down my arms, I see the beauty in trusting a power greater than myself, one that allows for miracles in the most unlikely places. I can put away my pleas and bargains, my threats and bribes, and revel in the words of an unknown author when he penned: “Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain.” That’s the only kind of rain dance I need.

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