Of Rain, Sorrow, and Looking Ahead...

It's almost inevitable...I don't know the exact count, but my memory recalls more rainy birthdays than non-rainy ones. If it hasn't rained, it's been cloudy or wet from a rain the night before (which, technically, would still be the date of my birth). My mom says it was sunny and beautiful the day I was born...but the two trips to labor and delivery (one in an ice storm and the final one in a rainstorm) may have cursed me slightly. Funny thing is, I'm almost offended when it does NOT rain on my birthday each year!

The rain brings other thoughts...the coming Spring, flowers, new life and growth. Sometimes the thoughts are darker and sadder...reminders of loneliness and loss, of hope decayed and general melancholy. I tend to lean towards the former even though I may allow myself a decent wallow in the latter. Rainy days usually make me smile.

This year is a little different. It was cloudy and rainy by evening. No real surprise, if you ask me. But the overcast skies weren't quite so soothing to me today. You see, my Papa David passed away yesterday. My Papa was a wonderful man--gruff yet gentle, opinionated but compassionate, and he could tell a funny story with the best of them! I remember when I was little it seemed Papa could never say no to me--how magical that is when you are a little girl, and how loving when you are older. It wasn't that I was a greedy child, but knowing that my Papa loved me so much and wanted me to know it, well, it's always been comforting.

I haven't seen my grandfather for nearly 2 years. I'm sorry to say that life has a way of creating a chasm that often seems impossible to cross. For me, it was living across the country from the first father-figure I could recall. I grew up and he grew older. The problem with time is that it has a way of freezing the past and fooling you--you forget that it hasn't stopped but is marching along like Patton is in the lead; when you realize it's marching away it's too late. I'm sure Papa knew he'd done enough to let me know he loved me, and I hope he knew just how much I loved him back. It hurts that I became so caught up in my life that I couldn't find a way to make him more a part of it. Sometimes being an adult sucks--it's not eloquent, but it's true.

So while I welcomed this rainy birthday, it was with the knowledge that my tears could mingle with the drops that fell. And while I'm sad beyond measure, I suppose that same rain is beginning to wash away the guilt I've been carrying for the past several months. I know that after the rain comes the sun, and the sun carries the promise of warmth and energy to wake this sleepy winter world and bring it into Spring. My hope is in the SON, and I know that with every tear He is opening His arms wider and gathering me closer. And while the doctors weren't able to do anything miraculous to give me more time with my Papa, I know that he has received the ultimate healing and that our reunion will one day be more glorious than any earthly reunion could promise to be.

This day is one of promise and hope. I am determined to be more loving and more vocal, bolder and more passionate. I'm going to say "yes" more often to things I want and need, "no" more frequently to save my sanity, and "shove it" to criticism and thoughts of self-doubt. I'm going to be a little more like my Papa and a lot more like myself. So, look out world--this is a new year for me. 33 is going to be a year of change for the better, a year of refining who I am and who I'm supposed to be. And if you get in my way, I might even borrow a bit of David Barnett's grit and smooth your rough edges--he wouldn't want you messing with me.

So, bring on the rain! Let it fall and make the world soggy. My parade will just keep on marching with my banner held high for the Lord and memories of my Papa to keep me warm.