Yesterday morning I awoke to a torrential downpour. It was chilly, cloudy and gray, and raining like crazy. A day to curl up with a good book and sip a cup of cocoa, never mind that it’s mid-May.
And so I did.
With sound of pounding raindrops filling my ears, I intentionally ventured forth to wander aimlessly. Am I the only one who does this? I ask myself. Who in their right mind purposefully wanders through a heavy rain when all is warm and dry indoors? But I couldn’t not go. I couldn’t shake this desire, couldn’t deny the adventure of doing something nonsensical.
I do a lot of “not knowing” in this life. There are moments when I can measure productivity, but there are many more occasions when I can’t tell up from down. When I don’t know the reasoning or the answer — I simply hear the calling.
So into the grayness I go…
Not knowing the full purpose, yet answering the call to step out. Braving the rain. Venturing forth when the rest of the world is content to remain where it’s warm and dry, where settling down to wait out the downpour seems the best option. In restlessness, I rise to shake free.
Even when I don’t know what freedom holds.
Even when I’m not entirely sure what it is I’m searching for.
Even when I don’t like the answers I may discover along the way.
I move through the grayness, squishing and splashing through mud and puddles. One step after another. Looking without searching. Simply moving into the call. Following the longing for the unknown.
I melt into the mystery.
Entwining with the holy. I cling to the hope that my faith is a cycle of conversions and transformations. I choose to believe and recognize God here — among the grayness and the greenness. Among the questions and uncertainties.
I choose hope. Here in the smallness of me and the largeness of Him.
Standing still, I find the beauty that bows in worship before its Creator. Through downpours of life, it offers itself. Bent, but not broken. Wilted, yet not crushed. Fragrant still, despite the storms of life.
I join with nature’s chorus and rejoice, astonished again by the wonder of the goodness of His hand outstretched on my behalf.
In the seeing, I breathe in grace and exhale thankfulness and dedicate myself anew to the Purposer of my heart.
Through rushing waters and blocked paths or open meadows and wide spaces, I lean into the knowing of what I do not know, and am content to call it faith. Grasping what it means to be made in His image more and more fully each day. Wondering and wandering, both pursuing and resting in His grace, and learning to press beyond the torrents to capture the beauty that is there. Waiting for me to step into the grayness…
I sink into the depths of knowing Him and being known.