Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘rain’

“Rain, rain go away
Come again another day.”

I don’t think it has been 40 days and 40 nights, but rain, grey and clouds have been pervasive in my neck of the world’s woods for at least a month … and it’s starting to get to me.

My head is aching with the atmospheric pressure, and I am convinced that my toes are ready to sprout algae from being cocooned in my socks and shoes. Then there’s the sadness that can overtake life. It is a heaviness of heart that can make it difficult to rise from bed in the morning.

Since moving to the Pacific North wet west coast, over twenty years ago, I have detested half of each calendar, when the monsoon season takes over and I start to dream of tropical locales, such as … Saskatchewan!

I have attempted the suggestions of those who have adapted to the seasonal conditions. One common suggestion is to make sure I get outside every day, no matter the weather. That one didn’t work! As soon as I step out into the moisture guttural sounds begin to emit from within, all on their own.

Other than ingesting massive quantities of Vitamin D, and having a faith that God will eventually let the sun shine down on me once again … someday, I have learned that I just have to wait it out.

I am not one who does waiting it out well.

What is good about this rainy season is that it reminds me of the truth of Hebrews 1:11:
Now faith is the assurance of what we hope for
and the certainty of what we do not see.”

These dark, oppressive days help me to keep my eyes, my hope, on what I do not see, but what I hope for … the brightness of the light that is to come.

And so, though usually through gritted teeth, I pray thanks for the rain.

For I hope for what I do not see.

May the blessing of the rain be on you—
the soft sweet rain.
May it fall upon your spirit
so that all the little flowers may spring up,
and shed their sweetness on the air.
May the blessing of the great rains be on you,
may they beat upon your spirit
and wash it fair and clean,
and leave there many a shining pool
where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.
Celtic Blessing

 

Read Full Post »

Poo on the Pathway

*this is a re-post from 2011 … but I still am right!

I am a bit … anal (catch 20140608-160321-57801031.jpgthe pun?) when it comes to what comes out of a dog. But I am okay with that, because … I am right!

There is nothing that can get my knickers in a knot like poo on the path! I always feel as though my eyes (and nasal passages) have been violated when I see that! Seriously, how hard is it to bend your body down and scoop up that warm, stinky, bacteria-breeding matter, then dispose of it in the nearest garbage can? Heck, if you forget your ‘poo baggie’ you can at least take a stick and move it out of sight. Oh, my aching nasal passages!

So, one night (when the sun FINALLY decided to show it’s face in my life, while hubby sends me daily emails, with statements from a Southern Eden that say “Oh, it’s a bit chilly today, only 80 degrees” … let me tell you, he can take his 80 degrees and … lets just say, another pun) I took the beast for a walk (and wished I had brought mittens, and a toque).

We had a great walk. The weather was dry, mostly (when it started to rain, I started my ‘I hate rain dance’, and, for a change, it worked! The weather gods probably didn’t want me dancing in public anymore … it was probably quite a site … kind of a mix of something tribal, and a two-year old having a hissy fit). The beast was thrilled to be relieved of her cabin fever (cabin fever definition for my beast – any movement, by any of her ‘persons’ in the household ‘could’ mean she gets to GO, and so she will leap from wherever she is when she hears any movement beyond breathing). I was thrilled to be relieved of my cabin fever (cabin fever definition for me – sighs, whenever I hear or see rain, followed by frantic searching of real estate ANYWHERE else … Winnipeg has not be omitted! Can you sense my desperation?).

By the time we were in the home stretch (aka, the point of the walk that I start thinking about all the calories I just burned, and how that means I can now give myself a ‘treat’ … solid thinking!), I was feeling like a million bucks, and was starting to have ‘west coast’ thinking (aka. it rains for two weeks straight, then the sun comes out, and so do the west coasters, who all say the same things; “why isn’t this the best place to live?”, “It is so great to live here.” and “I love where I live.” … but where do their memories of the previous two weeks go? … and don’t tell me it’s optimism, it’s downright delusion!).

Then my beast did what she NEVER does … she pooed … on the gravely trail! My beast only poos on green … my fashionista daughter thinks it’s because her poos are yellowish and the green of the grass bring out the lighter, brighter hues … Oh crap (another pun), please don’t tell me you were falling for that!

Truly, she really never poos on anything that isn’t green. Why, last summer we has a dry spell (some time I need to tell you about the insanity of limiting water use … here!), and I thought our beast might be contemplating bulimia to avoid having to poo on brown grass. Heck, the kids are so infrequent at doing the ‘poo pick-up’, our grass is always brown anyway! But, I digress.

So, she poos on the the gravely trail. After my shock at her irregular (ha! ha! another pun) behavior subsides, I reach into my pocket for a baggie (praying the whole time that it didn’t fall out), and there it is, phew! At least I didn’t have to stand there looking around, wondering if anyone was looking at us, so I could skulk off, poo still on the path, because I didn’t have a baggie.

I go to ‘scoop the poop, in one fell swoop’, but, I am inexperienced in scooping poop from a gravely pathway, so one fell swoop just isn’t going to do it! I go in for the second swoop, but, again due to my inexperience, I apply too much downward pressure (this could be a pun ..), and my baggie (made out of the thinnest plastic available), shreds against the gravely pathway.

I am now so feeling the pressure (more puns) to get this mess wiped (pun) off the seat (pun) of my existence. I look at the shredded side of the baggie, I look at the remaining pooh still on the gravely path, I look at the beast, and give her a look that communicates ‘this is your fault’, and she looks at me and communicates ‘GO?’ (another, but much more unintentional, pun).

So, I reposition the poo in the baggie (don’t think for too long, of how I might have done that), so as to create the best possibility of one last (complete) successful swoop, avoiding any … skid marks … on my hand. But there’s just so many little pieces of poo strewn throughout the gravel! I am perplexed.

I swoop quickly, so quickly that the little pieces of poo, along with the gravitational (downward) pull, fly through the air, creating a much larger area strewn with the stinky stuff. I am left with a decision to make; do I even try to ‘finish the job’?

But, I have standards, and poo-lluting the pathway cannot go unwiped!

I bend, I swoop, and … it’s a clean sweep! I’ve bagged the poo! So, I tie the baggie up, and toss it into a nearby garbage can (when does that ever happen … usually I carry the full baggie so long, I forget about it until I start to toss it in the garbage in the van … imagine the sweet smell of success that could produce?).

This post, although greatly enhanced, is true, and I dedicate it to my 11-year old son, for whom there is no humor like potty humor! (and for whom, there is no greener color you turn, than when you are picking up poo).

 

Read Full Post »

I am a bit … anal (catch the pun?) when it comes to what comes out of a dog. But I am okay with that, because … I am right!

There is nothing that can get my knickers in a knot like poo on the path! I always feel as though my eyes (and nasal passages) have been violated when I see that! Seriously, how hard is it to bend your body down and scoop up that warm, stinky, bacteria-breeding matter, then dispose of it in the nearest garbage can? Heck, if you forget your ‘poo baggie’ you can at least take a stick and move it out of sight. Oh, my aching nasal passages!

So, tonight (when the sun FINALLY decided to show it’s face in my life, while hubby sends me daily emails, with statements from a Southern Eden that say “Oh, it’s a bit chilly today, only 80 degrees” … let me tell you, he can take his 80 degrees and … lets just say, another pun) I took the beast for a walk (and wished I had brought mittens, and a toque).

We had a great walk. The weather was dry, mostly (when it started to rain, I started my ‘I hate rain dance’, and, for a change, it worked! The weather gods probably didn’t want me dancing in public anymore … it was probably quite a site … kind of a mix of something tribal, and a two-year old having a hissy fit). The beast was thrilled to be relieved of her cabin fever (cabin fever definition for my beast – any movement, by any of her ‘persons’ in the household ‘could’ mean she gets to GO, and so she will leap from wherever she is when she hears any movement beyond breathing). I was thrilled to be relieved of my cabin fever (cabin fever definition for me – sighs, whenever I hear or see rain, followed by frantic searching of real estate ANYWHERE else … Winnipeg has not be omitted! Can you sense my desperation?).

By the time we were in the home stretch (aka, the point of the walk that I start thinking about all the calories I just burned, and how that means I can now give myself a ‘treat’ … solid thinking!), I was feeling like a million bucks, and was starting to have ‘west coast’ thinking (aka. it rains for two weeks straight, then the sun comes out, and so do the west coasters, who all say the same things; “why isn’t this the best place to live?”, “It is so great to live here.” and “I love where I live.” … but where do their memories of the previous two weeks go? … and don’t tell me it’s optimism, it’s downright delusion!).

Then my beast did what she NEVER does … she pooed … on the gravely trail! My beast only poos on green … my fashionista daughter thinks it’s because her poos are yellowish and the green of the grass bring out the lighter, brighter hues … Oh crap (another pun), please don’t tell me you were falling for that!

Truly, she really never poos on anything that isn’t green. Why, last summer we has a dry spell (some time I need to tell you about the insanity of limiting water use … here!), and I thought our beast might be contemplating bulimia to avoid having to poo on brown grass. Heck, the kids are so infrequent at doing the ‘poo pick-up’, our grass is always brown anyway! But, I digress.

So, she poo is on the the gravely trail. After my shock at her irregular (ha! ha! another pun) behavior subsides, I reach into my pocket for a baggie (praying the whole time that it didn’t fall out), and there it is, phew! At least I didn’t have to stand there looking around, wondering if anyone was looking at us, so I could skulk off, poo still on the path, because I didn’t have a baggie.

I go to ‘scoop the poop, in one fell swoop’, but, I am inexperienced in scooping poop from a gravely pathway, so one fell swoop just isn’t going to do it! I go in for the second swoop, but, again due to my inexperience, I apply too much downward pressure (this could be a pun ..), and my baggie (made out of the thinnest plastic available), shreds against the gravely pathway.

I am now so feeling the pressure (more puns) to get this mess wiped (pun) off the seat (pun) of my existence. I look at the shredded side of the baggie, I look at the remaining pooh still on the gravely path, I look at the beast, and give her a look that communicates ‘this is your fault’, and she looks at me and communicates ‘GO?’ (another, but much more unintentional, pun).

So, I reposition the poo in the baggie (don’t think for too long, of how I might have done that), so as to create the best possibility of one last (complete) successful swoop, avoiding any … skid marks … on my hand. But there’s just so many little pieces of poo strewn throughout the gravel! I am perplexed.

I swoop quickly, so quickly that the little pieces of poo, along with the gravitational (downward) pull, fly through the air, creating a much larger area strewn with the stinky stuff. I am left with a decision to make; do I even try to ‘finish the job’?

But, I have standards, and poo-lluting the pathway cannot go unwiped!

I bend, I swoop, and … it’s a clean sweep! I’ve bagged the poo! So, I tie the baggie up, and toss it into a nearby garbage can (when does that ever happen … usually I carry the full baggie so long, I forget about it until I start to toss it in the garbage in the van … imagine the sweet smell of success that could produce?).

This post, although greatly enhanced, is true, and I dedicate it to my 11-year old son, for whom there is no humor like potty humor! (and for whom, there is no greener color you turn, than when you are picking up poo).

Read Full Post »

A good day for me might involve a wonderful conversation with a friend, or a time of deep belly laughter with my children, or morning coffee on a day off with hubby, or a walk on the trail with the beast.

images-2A bad day can take many forms, but would often include rain … especially anytime from November to March, when the monsoon season is upon those of us in the Pacific Northwest.

Just as rain falls on us all, so suffering comes to us all.

Matthew 5:45 tells us, “He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” Now I do not mind the idea of sharing the sun with the evil, but do I really have to share in the rain? Shouldn’t life be, well, easy for those of us who are good, and righteous, and more difficult for those who are evil and unrighteous? Isn’t that only right, only fair?

I sometimes think that my biggest problem in living this life is that I am looking for fairness, for goodness, for ‘payback’ here in this life. I think that I am looking for the rewards of following Christ to be handed out here and now.

I read verses like those of Deuteronomy 11:25-26, “see, I am setting before you today a blessing and a curse— the blessing if you obey the commands of the Lord your God that I am giving you today; the curse if you disobey the commands of the Lord your God and turn from the way that I command you today by following other gods,which you have not known,” and I figure that the blessing is for me for today, for now.

And maybe it is for now. Maybe I am being blessed on a daily basis (and indeed I am) but I am not even acknowledging the blessings that are mine. Each day I can enjoy the greatest blessing, that of walking each and every step, not alone or on my own strength, but with my God, and the power to live my life being energized by His strength in my weakness.

But maybe, just maybe, the blessings are for another time, another place. Maybe here on our God-created, but sin-soiled planet we cannot even receive the perfect blessing that God has for us.

Maybe the rains of suffering, given to all … good and evil, righteous and unrighteous, are to remind us that we are not good, or evil, but we are what God’s grace has transformed us into … blessed creatures, living under the grace of our perfect God.

191895634092241202_IfNiXHvb_b

Read Full Post »

I miss the thunder and lightening storms that I grew up with on the East Coast.

I miss them from our life in Ottawa as well.

Where I live, on the west coast, we do not get many thunder and lightening storms, and when they happen, they are short lived, and not terribly dramatic.

For many, there would be no ‘missing’ of thunder and lightening storms, but I truly do.

I miss how they made my heart pound.

I miss how they made the house shake. I miss the rumbling of the Earth, the shaking of the pictures on the walls, as the lightening hit nearby.

I miss counting from one clap of thunder until the next … counting how close it might be.

I miss the power going out, and darkness only being distinguished by the eye-blinding flashes of unpredictable lightening.

I miss the way such a storm would draw the whole family together in one room, as if we were together to play a game, or watch a flick, or share a meal.

I miss the story-telling that would come of the togetherness. Stories of storms past. Stories of how we, how other responded to the storms. Stories of those we knew, stories of those we had only heard of. Stories of fear, of bravery, of loss and of delight.

I miss the air cleansing rains that come after the storm. The rains that push the heaviness in the air away, far away. And replace it with a newness that breathing is intentional, so as to cleanse our lungs as well. All that was heavy, all that was life-hindering, all that was suffocating, was changed by the ear-pounding thunder, the earth shaking lightening that scared us to the point of alertness.

And the rains came, and washed all evidence of all that had been stealing our breath, so that we could take joy in the gift of living, the gift of every breath.

I miss it, I miss them, because the shock and fear that they produced reminded me that I am alive.

Read Full Post »

I’ve got Karen Carpenter singing in my head, as I sit at a coffee shop, watching the rain fall, and looking at the depressing forecast for the week to come.

It is now mid-June and the monsoons continue, with little relief (aka. sunshine) in sight … literally.

I have yet to swim in our pool, get a suntan, or have the sun hide my darker (or lighter, as the case may be) roots. I have yet to wear shorts, a tank top or sunglasses. I wear only hoods, slickers and galoshes. And I am considering that Prozac might just be a big part of my near future.

Despite how it sounds (and looks) the weather is not all doom and gloom. This west coast winter weather in springtime does make it easier to keep the grass green and the plants watered. It makes the final days of working in a school, before summer break, far more bearable. It makes barbecuing less appealing, and using the slow cooker more appealing.

All that said, the first day of summer is this very week. The countdown is not down to days, but hours, and the calendar may just turn without any other outward signs of this seasonal change. Today, that reality is really getting me down.

Just a week ago the office administrator at our church had put the following on our church sign:

“Whoever it is that is still praying for rain,
STOP!”

I have to say, it was my favorite message board saying ever!

As I sit, enjoying my warm drink (a London Fog … could I choose a more appropriate cool and wet weather drink?), I noticed a small, sparrow-like, bird looking for edible treasures outside the window. For this small creature, the rain does not seem to hinder it’s daily routine. As a matter of fact, it is probably benefiting from the wet soil that draws the worms out of the ground, making it’s take-out meals more like delivery.

Out of nowhere an old, old (like over a hundred year old) song starts playing on the record player of my mind:

“Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise,
When songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies,
I draw the closer to Him, from care He sets me free;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.”

The words make me wonder, is this less appealing weather worthy of complaint? Why am I allowing something that is so out of my control, to control how I look at this day? Even when my complaint is of greater value than the reports of a meteorologist, there is always something to be thankful for, because there is always one who watches over, cares for and loves me.

“Funny, but it seems I always wind up here with you
Nice to know somebody loves me
Funny, but it seems that it’s the only thing to do
Run and find the one who loves me”

Read Full Post »

The Rainy Day

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

It is spring, and everyone knows that April showers bring May flowers.

Living on the West Coast of Canada, flowers start here in January, and continue until October. Rain also starts in January, and ends … on December 31.

I have strong feelings concerning rain. My feelings towards rain are not innate, I have not always felt this way about rain. My feelings towards rain were not nurtured into me, as I did not grow up hearing negative messages about rain. My feelings concerning rain are situational. I have lived on the Wet West Coast of Canada for almost sixteen years now , and I have developed a strong, well-educated, deeply felt conviction about rain … I HATE it!

Oh, I love the lushness of the flora that I get to see year round. I just do not love it ALL THE TIME. It (rain) has horrible effects on me. I get sleepy, grumpy, dopey, bashful and I feel I need to see the doc (only sneezy and happy are missing from my seven dwarfs of rain … well, when the rain stops, I do get happy … but, I digress).

Rain and I just do not go well together.

But, when the sun comes out, and the puddles dry up, and the flowers open, and I don my open shoes, I forget about the rain that had been dominating my every thought previously. Once the rains are out of sight they are out of my thoughts.

Rain is like struggle to me.

When I struggle, the struggle, and how to alleviate it are paramount in my thoughts. The struggle gets me down. It makes me sleepy, grumpy, dopey, bashful and … I feel the need to talk to my healer, my spiritual ‘doc’. When I struggle, I spend far more time on my knees, asking God for guidance, for wisdom, for healing.

But, when the struggle is over, and the the tears dry up, and my spirit lightens, and my soul takes delight in life again, I forget about the struggle that had been dominating my every thought previously. Once the struggle is out of sight, I forget the healer who accompanied me through the pain.

The healer does not leave me when I am struggling, nor does he leave me when I am through the struggle, and not as reliant on him. He is with me always … like the rains on the west coast. The shadows may at first glance be depressing, but on closer examination, they are evidence of the presence of his light. The cold rain at first glance, may be cold and damp, but on closer examination, they are evidence of the refreshment, the new life that he provides.

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,
neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation,
will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Romans 8:38-39

” … behind the clouds the sun is still shining.”


Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

Sealed in Christ

An Outreach of Sixth Seal Ministries

Amazing Tangled Grace

A blog about my spiritual journey in the Lord Jesus Christ.

FisherofMen

Cast The Net To Rescue Those In Need

Following the Son

One man's spiritual journey

Fortnite Fatherhood

A father's digital age journey with his family and his faith

Frijdom

encouraging space to think deeply

His Wings Shadow

Trust ~ Delight ~ Commit ~ Rest

Perfect Chaos

The Blog of Philosopher Steven Colborne

Life- All over the map

A family journey through childhood cancer and around the world

A L!fe Lived

seeking the full life that only Jesus offers

J. A. Allen

Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins

The Mustard Seed Kingdom

A Blog of the Evangelical Anabaptist Partners

Brittany Wheaton

reflections on living intentionality and soulfully in the midst of the grind