Sometimes on dark days, when lightning and thunder crash overhead, when rain drenches, we need a reminder that there’s an arching sky above that heavy roll of clouds. And above this mass of grey storm, the heavens are blue blending into purple fading into black.
It’s there, waiting its turn: the light and the blue sky. There’s always a sun burning on one side of the globe or another, and our planet wheeling around it. And beyond our nearest star sprawls an infinity of stellar bodies, sending back light that is already thousands of years old, piercing the veil of darkness on clear nights.
It feels heavy, this weather. Punishing, almost. Torrential. We travel in layers and under cover. We dive for shelter, we crave something warm in our hands.
And yet, our earth needs this renewal. We know this, too. It’s essential.
And of course, stormy days are not unexpected. They’re natural. Hopefully we’re prepared for the turn in weather, not surprised by it … we have waterprfoof gear. Umbrellas. Boots. Slickers.
I remember being the one who loved to jump into puddles. First one in. Not just as a kid. As a grownup, too.
As a freshman in college, I’d take off my shoes and run barefoot through puddles. I was a young woman on an undergraduate college campus. Didn’t care about social conventions. Walked to class surrounded by friends who were equally inebriated with the sheer joy of life, independence and possibilities. Once one of us tried it — jumping in puddles – we all did it. Laughing under umbrellas, soaking wet, snared between childhood and adulthood.
And yet I wear high waterproof boots that are good for sloshing through deep currents. I’ve used them to wade into the ocean’s tide or the river when walking dogs with friends. They’re excellent for puddle-jumping, too.
Sometimes it’s worth being ready to step into the water. To go through the puddle instead of around it. To make a splash. After all, every day is its own blessing … it’s wise to savor each.
So we can choose to look up. To gaze up beyond the low-slung horizon of clouds toward the assurance of bright starlit heavens. Or peer down at the ground and the promise of a nearby puddle.
Either way, take this gift of time for what it is. I wish all of us the courage and wisdom to find joy on days like this one. Whether it’s the contentment of being dry with a steaming cup in your palms and the percussive rhythm of rain pounding the roof and the window … the spiritual certainty that our earth is being quenched … the assurance that the sun is there beyond those clouds, waiting to return … or the elemental joy of stepping outside into the storm and wading through the puddles.