Dusk

This post is going to be a little bit different than usual.  Instead of explaining an idea or a concept or doing anything informative, I'm going to recreate an experience. 

 


The night was tangible.  The colors were bright.  Drops of water clung to the playground equipment.  Streaks of wind played with the children's hair.  A girl walked through the park.  Hands in pockets and hair free and wild. She walked to the swing, and sat down on it's damp rubber. 

The green sweater had seen better days, but it kept out the chill. It was from a discount store, so it never stayed in place.  It slipped off one shoulder.  She rocked to-and-fro until she was high off the ground.  She rushed forward, the wind pulling her hair straight back and revealing her face, and then she fell back, and her hair hid her again.  Buzz buzz went her phone.  She pulled it from her pcket and read the message.  Shoot, thought the girl.  One of her friends was informing her that she mispelled a word in the title of her recent blogpost.  The girl shook her head and sent the reply. 

The sky was swirly gray and white, like chocolate marbled bannana bread.  Near the horizon, was a strip of light, like someone had decided to put icing on the bottom of the banana bread.  The houses made sillhouettes in the strip.  The grass was almost flourecent from the rain, and the dirt nearly black.  Stark, and contrasting against the sky, skeletal tree branches reached for the heavens. 

A strane feeling had settled over the girl.  As she watched her siblings and friends play in the puddles, she could not help feeling amazed at the haunting beauty of the moment.  Her camera on her phone would not do it justice.  This world was too pretty for it to hold.  The rain had made the world beautiful.  It was almost a vampire beauty, dark and mysterious, yet bold and bright.  The girl, however did not like vampires.

Dusk was darkening and the group trudged home.  It was the time of night when the moon rises high in the sky.  Tonight it was a sliver that pierced the sky, almost like someone had punched their fingernail through black paper to let the light behind shine through. 

A star shone below the moon, bringing symetry to the picture. 

Soon, the children were within footsteps of the house.  As the girl stepped inside, the warm glow of the Christmas tree chased away the mood and the feeling of that night.  But she knew, that she would never forget. 

Brown Bears, Rain, and Sunshine

I love it when it rains.  The sky clouds up, the streets shimmer as they reflect the lights of cars sloshing through the puddles, and the world becomes small for a while.  The light drifting through the windows is soft and pearly.  My house suddenly becomes a cosy sleepy place.  Kind of like the Napping House "where everyone is sleeping."  I am rarely in a bad mood when it rains.  Instead, I am sleepy and content, like a fat brown bear ready for winter.  Why should I be angry?  I am going to sleep now.  Anger would inhibit sleep. 

I realized the other day that it's kind of wierd that I like rain.  Most people hate it.  I mean after all, it makes it impossible to go anywhere without getting wet.  But I relish the wetness of it.  Sometimes, when sheets of rain are pouring down, I'll slip outside and let the rain saturate my being.  In a chaotic sort of insanity, I will laugh and run and shout as I become totally drenched.  It reminds me of that song by Super chick called "Stand in the rain."  Here, I'll post it for you.

I think that one of the reasons I love rain so much is because I can't control it.  As I stand there, getting wetter by the second, I am letting go.  I am letting go of my dryness.  It's like letting go of my selfconciosness.  I stand in the rain, I stand up as everything around me is crashing down.  The rain washes away all of my worries, all of my doubts, and all of me. 

It's like what Dory on Finding Nemo says; "It's time to let go!"  I think we should all stand in the rain more often.  Figuratively anyway.  We could all stand to let go of ourselves.  To stop thinking about what we think matters and start prayin about what God says matters. As the thunder rollls, and the lightning tries to break the sky, I will stand there, letting go of myself.  Letting go of who I want to be.  When the storm is over, I will be a new person.  I will peel off my wet clothes, and I will put on a soft warm suit. 

After a storm,  the world becomes beautiful.  The grass is greener, the dirt is richer, the birds sing sweeter, and the sun shines brighter.  There is a sense of exitement.  It's like the brown bear in me wakes up and sees a big pot of honey in front of him.  Suddenly, the world is full of sweet and inticing possibilities.  The world becomes "a new creation" and a new place for us to explore.