Thunder shook the house at half past four, waking the dogs and me to watch the rapid flashes of lightning and listen to the repeated bursts of thunder that followed. I couldn't hear rain yet. Expecting that the sky would open at any minute and rain could still be pouring at our normal wake-up time, I roused myself from the comfort of my bed, the dogs jumped up from theirs and fell in beside me, and we made a dash outdoors while we had the chance. Good timing. Having preemptively dispensed with the anticipated urgency of nature's early-morning needs, we all went back to bed, back to peaceful dreams.
Our rest was mildly disturbed by continually rumbling thunder, but we made up for it by sleeping a couple of hours later than usual today. There's something about sleeping in on a rainy day that evokes a deep and ancient sense of well-being--something akin to what the cave dwellers must have felt on days like this as they lay tucked in a pile of animal pelts and watched raindrops trickle down the rocks near the opening of their shelter. No hunting and gathering today. Might as well rest and conserve energy.
It's been an interesting week. There was disappointment (but understanding) on Tuesday when I learned that the delightful company I was expecting to arrive today or tomorrow had changed plans due to an untimely illness. About half a day later I turned that negative into a positive and jettisoned my lengthy housecleaning to-do list in favor of reading a book and other pleasing activities.
The extra leisure time turned out to be helpful as the week wore on and I needed to nurture my own strength of spirit in order to try to lift that of someone else I care about, someone who was experiencing a bit of an emotional crisis after being confronted with unexpected hard truths. I've lived with the same kind of disregard and self-centered apathy that rained down on her this week, so even as I felt anger and distress over her disillusionment, I found further vindication for decisions I made more than half a life ago. She's over it now. Over the crisis, at least. She's home with people who love her, value her, support her. I'm glad she has those people in her life. Glad I have them in mine, God bless 'em.
It's an unfortunate fact that life rains on all of us sometimes. When it rains on those I love, I try--but admittedly struggle--to remember the truthfulness of simple words sung by Marius and Eponine in Act II of Les Misérables: ". . . and rain will make the flowers grow."
That's what I wish for all of you today: that your rains will grow flowers.