It rained last night.
IT’S OKAY TO JUST BE
Just as I crawled into bed to read my National Geographic on pirates, it began. I like my magazine. It is easier to read than the book I am hacking my way through. The magazine has pictures in it for one thing. The book is too sciencey for bedtime which either hurts my brain or I fall asleep before I turn the page. I will finish the book, but it will be a slow slog. Bedtime, seems to be my time to just be. I think sometimes it’s okay to just be.
For those of you reading my stuff in places like the Amazon rainforest or the Burmese jungle, rain is something you probably don’t want or need. You just had your monsoon season and your village just got washed away—again. But for those who have sunshine 310 days a year, you know what I mean.
God gives me time to just be
God does that, give me time to just be. He does it with simple stuff which, if I don’t think about it, seem to come from random sources and have no connection to Him. Like a sunrise—or even a moonrise. We had a monster moon the last couple of nights. You know, one of those you could read an original copy of Les Miserables with that eight-point font, in your front yard and the craters on the moon looked like, well, craters.
The mornings before dawn when I write have some of the best hours. Like now. I woke earlier than my normal early. I rolled over, stepped over one of the hounds, who now apparently likes sleeping next to my side of the bed, right under foot, so I have to step over/around/through her legs to get up and find the bathroom, then make it back in reverse order. It’s dark for one thing, the house only lit by candles, and the coffee is good, and the dogs are snoring at my feet when I eventually settle at my desk. Perfect time for writing. I usually have the Helen Jane Long station playing on Pandora. But sometimes, like this morning, its rain sounds. Helen would understand. Apparently, this is my time to, well, be.
The season we are in….
It seems like this season we are in; we need peace in our minds and hearts more than ever. Some people, maybe who don’t believe everything is connected and part of something I have called The Plan with capital letters, might feel they need to form their own peace and work real hard at it. I can’t imagine working at peace. But I have—a lot. It’s never enough. I have tried to do it, set it up, wrap it in burlap. I have tried trips, books, lying in bed on my back. Only to find myself, more tired and more anxious than I was before.
My dogs have it!
My dogs seem to have it. They sleep twenty-seven hours a day. They always want to be near me, sleeping next to me on their dog beds, at least they start there, they move to the hall, or my side, then back. They seem the most at peace, when they are near me. When I leave, they find a seat in the window box, looking out the window, waiting for me to return. Then, when I do come home, it’s like I just came back from overseas, instead of the store, greeting me with slobber and wagging tails, then turning to their water dish, which they hadn’t drunk from the entire time I was gone, for fear they would miss me returning from their perch.
I guess what I really want is the peace my dogs have, which, apparently, comes from me, their Master.
I guess I want to be more like my dogs. Hmm.
Sometimes, it is just good to listen to the rain. I wager if I lived on the Olympic peninsula I would want to listen to sunshine. Sometimes, like this morning, we just need the sound of the rain, a deep cleansing rain, washing out the gutters, before we go and saddle our ponies for the day. Whatever it is for you, it seems to come from a source way out of our own control. All we have to do is stop, listen, and believe.
Sometimes, it’s okay to just, well, be. It’s part of The Plan.