rain
A steady drizzle descends upon the nearly saturated fields. Birds previously gorging on emerging earthworms find sustenance elsewhere. The humidity when combined with temperatures in the low forties embraces one with a chill to the bone. An assertion that we’ve had enough cold weather does nothing to bring about a change. The rain’s steady beat continues as the clouds surrender their heavy load upon the countryside. Knowing that “this too shall pass” gives reason for thankfulness and hope, but does nothing to satiate the desire for warmer climes and bright sunshine to fill the daylight hours. When unwanted and unwelcomed symptoms of PD emerge, even in the face of full medication, we assert that we’ve had enough of the pain and stiffness that impedes our otherwise purposeful activities. Assertions alone do not drive away the passing through of the clouds of symptoms that have to “work their course” toward at least partial restoration. Experience has shown that “this too shall pass” with knowledge that the presence of symptoms must be endured. A heaping helping of thankfulness from the table of gratitude helps to stoke the fires of hope that warm the heart.
Emerging from the rear entrance of the Cajun restaurant in which we enjoyed a delightful meal, the rain began to pummel as we darted to the car. Navigating a strange and “uniquely” arranged parking lot in the midst of a torrential downpour proved to be a daunting task. After multiples of turns we were once again on the road to the farm. Just before the traffic light signaled its green glow for our direction, a massive truck hauling an eight foot diameter twenty foot long conduit turned onto the road in front of us. Added to nature’s downpour was the massive mist and back-splash of the enormous cargo in front of us. As we traveled ever so cautiously in a northerly direction to the farm the clouds began to clear and we could see ahead the glow of the full sun calling us into brighter light. As the traffic permitted we gracefully passed the impeding cargo as we joyfully traveled through the beautiful landscape now illuminated and glistening in the light of the late afternoon sun. There are times when PD symptoms seem to make their way into my path to impede my journey. Impatience with them serves little purpose, but recognizing that there are glimmers of light on the other side of those impediments gives purpose to enduring them for a while until the opportunity arises to leave them in their own mist. Experience has taught me that each day is a journey and that the One who holds the future is the loving guide to the destination.
The steady tapping of rain on the tin roof of the old farm house maintains a mesmerizing blanket of soft sound on this wet North Carolina morning. Light glistens softly over the eastern hill as day breaks the darkness of the evening. Just a few weeks ago, the liquid onslaught would have transformed in the much colder weather to bring us snow and ice. Now, the reverberating rhythm of rain brings liquid nourishment to lawn and budding leaves, thirsting for its arrival. Although this cheering son of spring would prefer bright sunlight, the rain brings thirst quenching relief to fields and forests ensuring an even greener season soon to burst bountifully on the terrain. A pause of thankfulness for God’s provision restores the heart filled with gratitude. A sunny preference does not always fill the need for sustaining life’s journey. Sometimes the cleansing flow of grace and mercy is needed to wash away the dust on a life taken for granted.
Overcast and gloomy, the sky looks ominously like it is about to let loose its bounty of moisture. Rain, snow, or a daunting mix of both may be forthcoming as the day progresses. Armed with a hefty stack of Carolina cut wood and a trusty stove in which it burns, one would think this time is for hunkering down to a weekend reflection at the old farm house. Ever so grateful for the hunkering option, we choose instead to venture out to the local theater to view a live broadcast from the Metropolitan Opera. Eager to meet friends and enjoy the warmth of the theater, we are ever so grateful for the opportunity about to unfold. This thankful aging youngster (in self-perception only) is overjoyed that rigidity, tremor, and lost agility are not barriers, but rather slight impediments to be acknowledged only in the moment of their appearance. It is amazing how a heart of gratitude can change a thought of woe into a head full of “wow”. A mind full of thanks is the ticket for admission to the theater of joy that awaits a curtain call each day!
Waves of falling rain pounce firmly on the tin roof giving birth to a calming rhythmic sound. A random crackle from the cast iron stove is a reminder of the warmth being generated from within. Light is slowly invading the overcast dawn illuminating the replenishing shower over the glistening pond. Morning has come and with it the opportunity for discovering new possibilities within God’s gift of grace. As this day unfolds so do the possible challenges that lie ahead. None will be greater, however, than the call to gratitude for each step taken and each breath drawn. As this day moves further from its dawn, the recollection of its peaceful arrival provides substance to whatever will be served on today’s plate. May your day unfold in gratitude and grace as you step into its warm embrace.
The streets were crowded in that early evening of mid December in Ahmadabad, India. The court order for custody of my daughter had been signed. We crossed the treacherous threshold to the ashram and wound our way to the entrance for that last visit. My daughter would be soon in my full time care and no longer a ward of the State of Gujarat. For six months I had jokingly told the lawyer there that when the order for Ahsha’s custody was signed, the heavens would cry for joy and Gujarat would get its rain. The monsoon had been virtually nonexistent that year. As we entered the dimly lit ashram from the gently falling rain, a clap of lightening descended with a thunderous roar and all went black in those halls of Odhav. Suddenly, candles arrived as we were escorted to the Superintendant’s office. Mosquitoes, drawn by the candle light, were so thick I had to cover my mouth and nose with one hand while signing the release papers with the other. In the candle glow, my daughter, wrapped in a blanket I had purchased for her six months prior, was handed to me. I held her close as tears of joy streamed down my face in gratitude that we were finally together. As we drove away from the ashram, the rain pummeled the packed earth, quenching its thirst. We soon arrived at the home of our host to the exclamation of a neighbor in the doorway, shouting with arms raised to heaven; “all of India is blessed because of this child.” Although much more had to be accomplished, the expression of gratitude and blessing that evening would serve as fuel for the journey that lie ahead. Faith, hope, and love have sustained through the years as God’s mercy and grace have been poured out.