Rain Thanks

Thank you God, for sending the rain, even on December 14th. The rain always heals and makes me think. If you stand outside right now, you can almost feel its warmth, and that warmth is in the air, and I have no idea why. But it is. The skies of Lawrence, Kansas have been misty lately, and it’s hitting the side of my house and I type this from my bedroom in torrents died into drops. Strange. Well, there’s a certain newness, a nurturing whole feeling when it rains. You wake up and there are puddles. Recently, earlier in the semester when I really couldn’t care less and was much more newly excited to be home, I started puddle jumping for the art. Now, I know what you are thinking, puddles are meant to be stepped over. Well, if I could do a running gazelle leap over a 10 ft. puddle in Chile and be a shameless gringa that was way less wet, don’t you think I can do a running gazelle leap into a 2 foot puddle outside of Fraser hall at 8am, 40 minutes until I should be walking to class, and turn my toes white with blued nails and I walk through micro streams and watch the construction workers laugh around me? Yeah, no, you really don’t get how much I like the rain. When I lived on campus, there was a picnic table outside of the building that was home, and when it rained and I was happy, I would sit outside and sometimes lay on top of the table until I couldn’t stand it and then I’d strip down and put on dry clothes and wait until the feeling came back apart from the pin pricks and cold pokes of raindrops. I’d wrap myself up in a blanket, and that is how I survived finals season with buckets of anxiety: sitting outside and/or dancing in the rain. Even if you’re miserable when you come inside, you can feel yourself become warm, and it all melts away. Passion may be like a fire, but dancing in the rain is not just for your catchy Gene Kelley Pandora station, it’s for DANCING AND SINGING IN THE RAIN. Let’s get real: Art has always been subjective. If you decide it should be art, great, make it art. If not, don’t sit outside in the rain. The funny thing about all of it is that no one will notice either way unless they think you are awesome, and don’t you want more awesome people thinking you’re awesome in your life? I seriously don’t understand. You can either get noticed for being inside and forgotten, or you can live your life and dance with the people who just need a little nudge to dance in the rain. You have no idea how fabulous it will be. Just do it.

As a side note though, watch for sticks. Walnuts are the absolute worst. And some rocks are worse than you think, ESPECIALLY the tiny ones.


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I am a second-grade teacher and pastor-to-be who loves people. I spend my weekends with friends or wandering the museums of DC alone and with a journal, trying to put words on the places of the soul that still feel wordless. I spent most of my days at school trying to learn patience through my students and running on sheer nerdy passion. I follow Jesus Christ, and savor that as my most important identity--that I am a child of God, as are infinite others, regardless of their other identities. Christ is my one thing.

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